Everything You See That Glitters Is Not Always Gold
by sleepyCJwritesSTUFFnow
Summary: One mistake is all it really takes. It all started when Weiss was ten.
1. Prologue: Willow Schnee

_"Willow, he's fine," Jacques says, reaching over and squeezing my knee reassuringly. "As are Weiss and Winter."_

_I sigh heavily, raking a hand through my hair. "Whitley is only four years old, Weiss eight, and Winter's only fifteen. Even with —"_

_"Klein and the rest of the staff are keeping an eye on them," He reminds me. "Right now, what I want to know, is why our barely legal daughter is associating herself with felons."_

_I send him a dark look. "Aubrey Ironwood isn't a felon, she's sixteen and rebellious."_

_Jacques scoffs. "She stole James' car two weeks ago, didn't she?"_

_"I'm not defending that," I reply irritably. "But Aubrey, for all her faults, has stood by Cate through hell and —"_

_"We got rid of the problems she got herself into," He says and I can already see the leniency he has always given her in his eyes. From her being the exception in how we named our children, to her sharp nature, to her being almost a perfect physical cross between us with pale skin, naturally dark (but artificially blonde) hair, and my eyes and delicate features, she has always been his favorite even when he's gotten angry with her. "Both of the messes she made, too," He adds. "We threw money at the problems and one is never going to find her and the other is going to be behind bars for a very long time after what they threatened to do to her with that whore."_

_I flinch at the memory but say nothing. The car stops only a minute later in front of the Ironwoods house, where, sure enough, my eldest daughter is sitting barefoot in a tree with Aubrey grinning madly and screaming something incoherent from on top of her father's car. Our driver lets us out quickly, at about the same time Glynda Goodwitch — James' wife — pulls up into the driveway and all but tears the door off her car as soon as she sees her daughter._

_"Aubrey!" She snaps. "You are in enough trouble as it is, get down from there before —"_

_"But mom…" She protests._

_"You heard me," Glynda says sharply. "I thought we had already discussed why what you did was irresponsible, but, maybe…"_

_She trails off, noticing me and Jacques, while Aubrey grudgingly skids off the top of the car._

_"Willow," She says calmly. "Jacques. What are you doing here?"_

_"Retrieving Cate," I tell her, glancing over my shoulder and watching Jacques start towards where our daughter is sitting in the tree._

_"Cate Lynn Schnee!" Jacques scowls at her once he knows she'll be able to hear him. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? Get down from there!"_

_She sighs, her short blonde waves glistening in the sunlight when she tosses it back._

_"Fine," She mutters._

_I take a small step back upon her, rather nonchalantly, jumping down and not even flinching on impact. Already, Jacques looks noticiably annoyed and she looks more than a little guilty._

_"Nice fall!" A boy across the street hollers at her, flipping his skateboard up._

_"Keep it all in your pants, boy!" Cate yells back, smirking and tapping the rim of her perfectly round glasses. "You ain't got a chance, boy!"_

_I don't know what's made her so reckless, but she balances it surprisingly well even if it's a result of paranoia. It wasn't the first, nor the first example of her impulse, but it —_

"Willow?" Jacques sharply draws me from my thoughts and I almost spill my wine on myself because of it.

I glance to him, about to respond in anger from what happened last night with Weiss' birthday and what he said to me.

"Sorry I'm late getting home," Cate chirps, stepping into the library and smiling first at Winter, Weiss, and Whitley. "My class ran long and then Aubrey insisted on taking me out to A Simple Wok for a tofu wok, of course, and I —"

She stops suddenly, looking between me and Jacques for a long moment. It is then I realize that, since she began university, she has managed to come home late every night she's been avoiding her father.

"It's good to see you," Winter finally says, breaking the silence with a smile. "Especially considering that you're in class year-round, it seems, and I'm at Atlas Academy."

Jacques frowns. "I still don't believe that's the right thing for you. You are still the heiress to the SDC, after all."

Winter retorts quickly but hangs her head in shame almost immediately.

"Well, I think it's great Win's planning to pursue a military career," Cate says defiantly, crossing her arms.

"Cate," I say tiredly. "Please don't start again. You are just twenty years old —"

"And I'm going to start law school in a year," She reminds me. "I am well within my rights to argue with him like I would a legal case."

Weiss turns to her in surprise, while Whitley shifts uncomfortably, fidgeting with his hands.

"But you need my money," Jacques smoothly replies. "Don't you, Cate Lynn?"

Her eyes widen for a moment and she fingers her purse anxiously.

"You wouldn't," She finally says. "You know I'd be damn broke without —"

"Then I suggest you start being on time for dinner every night," Jacques says evenly. "And stop playing with fire, unless of course you want your credit cards frozen."

I stare blankly into my wine, a bit startled by my swirling reflection before I begin to sip it again.

"I…" She looks to her feet for a few seconds and then sighs heavily. "Alright," She concedes. "Sorry."

Jacques leans back, looking smug.

"Miss Schnee," Klein breaks the silence by handing Cate a full glass of her favorite Cabernet Sauvignon. "Has your day been well?"

"I suppose," She says tiredly, taking a small sip and then taking back half of her wine. "I have too much on my mind, and it's been draining."

"Are you sure you should be —" Winter starts, looking at her in concern.

"I'm fine," She says quickly, taking back the rest of her drink. "Really."

Jacques looks to her disapprovingly. "Draining the glass like that was unnecessary."

"That depends," She mused while Klein pours her another drink. "Are you on the Council yet or are you still just levying your money?"

He bristles and squeezes my hand painfully hard.

"I have done neither of those," He tersely replies. "Should you really be drinking so much?"

She scowls behind her glasses. "I'm perfectly fine."

He shakes his head. "So you say."

I hate to admit it, but, in this moment, I know that he is right.


	2. Chapter 1: Cate Lynn Schnee

People have often accused me of being something of a hardass; they say I'm paranoid and hide behind my wit and parents. I'm in my third year at university before I start law school. Some of my classmates are definitely crazy, but, then again, I have some friends that aren't entirely sane either. Of course, I've been snapped at and snubbed and people have accused me of being cold and distant because I either am direct or simply smile mirthlessly to avoid dealing with people.

Those accusations are correct.

Look: I'm barely five foot three on the dot, I can't be in the sun for long without covering or sunblock lest I burn, and I'm a hundred and ten pounds. Forgive me for being distant if I don't immediately feel right with you. I am extremely attuned to the energy around me, and my immediate reactions to people, when they're strong, have always been right. I got this from my semblance, but I can barely produce my glyphs. It is exactly like I said: complicated.

Being a Schnee is complicated in general, actually. Most of my life has revolved around what transports are flying when, or how much money my parents have, or how and if I can justify myself. Fun fact: this is how I ended up being a twenty year old who can't afford to be spun off course. Sure, that's happened twice already but that doesn't mean money can be thrown at my problems forever. We could talk for hours about the things my older girlfriend did to me at fourteen or the things my boyfriend tried to do to me at sixteen but I would rather leave it at both relationships broke me down and both threatened my life; the first because it threw me into deep depression from which I haven't ever really been able to escape, and the second because he and his other girlfriend had gruesome plans to kill me. Of course, the money hit both of those in the blindside.

So, yes, I have been underestimated my whole life, and, yes, I sick of it, and, yes, I am willing to let my parents throw money at problems to make them go away. Are we clear about that?

I suppose I should also mention that, for as close as I am with my parents, I am constantly trying to justify even the smallest of things I do to them and, when I can't, struggle not to keep apologizing for everything. Winter doesn't understand, not that I would expect her too, and neither do Weiss or Whitley. I'm probably expecting too much of my ten and six year old baby siblings, but I can't help it, especially after last night.

Threatening to freeze my credit cards and my bank account was low, and my dad knows it. He knew it when he refused to give any of us trust funds, and he has known our weak spots from the start. There are plenty of things I can live without, but I refuse to be poor. I would never be able to afford law school, or my finest wines, or my designer clothes. He doesn't have to slap me to keep me in line. He's always been able to keep me on a leash with his money and he knows it even better than I do.

Jackass.

Speaking of which, I definitely am going to need a drink if I'm going to keep this up.

"Really?" Winter stares at me incredulously from the doorway of my room. "Are you really day drinking?"

"You got a better solution?" I reply, snatching up my antidepressant and taking my daily dosage with a long sip of my wine.

"Seek professional help?" She dryly suggests. "You often end up hungover after two glasses and on your ass after three."

God, I love Winter and I can't help but giggle despite knowing she's serious. Of all of my siblings, and likely because of how much closer we are in age, she and I understand each other best.

"I have," I remind her, having another long sip of my ambrosial cure all. "And I'm making slow progress."

Winter sighs. "Well, regardless, father has insisted that you come down to his study to discuss —"

"Okay, I get it," I tell her, taking down the rest of my drink. I set it down and begin to saunter our. "See you later, sis."

Winter raises an eyebrow but she hasn't questioned me on my mannerisms in a long time. She knows now that, where she tries to be only rational, I tend towards impulse. After all, I'm a tiny, pale as death, blonde chick with an attitude and temper that compliment my (often thoughtless) wit. Everyone always talks about how easy academia is for me, but they neglect my (supposed) inability to connect with most of my contemporaries and that it's because I am sick of people trying to take advantage of me because they underestimate me. Fuck them, honestly. I will not back down one step; I go out of my way to stay informed and make rational, fact-based decisions. That is exactly how, in the dark, I will win.

I will prevail.

Already I can feel the alcohol warming me and I am more than grateful that my papers for the next week are already submitted and I can take a step back to (try) enjoy my life. If you glanced around the manor halls, you'd see family photographs and portraits — such as the one from just last year — that look to be hiding something at best.

That's exactly what I'm thinking about when I saunter into my father's study like a diva.

"Cate," He says shortly. "Sit down. We need to talk."

I bite my lip. "Did you freeze my —"

"No," He says, looking at me sharply. "Be quiet and listen."

I stare into my hands quietly, feeling sickened and suddenly wishing I could have a small sip or two more.

"Tell me," He says plainly, shutting his computer. "Exactly how much did that fur coat cost?"

I hesitate, fingering the white mink anxiously.

"About seven hundred lien," I finally say. "It was thirty percent off and I can't resist a good sale. I think I spent about a grand in total that time, with this being the most expensive and then buying a blazer, dress pants, form-fitting blouse, and a hat."

He already knows this. He has to. These are the kind of mind games he and I have always played inconclusively.

"Hmmph," He muses with a frown. "Did it not occur to you to mention that before the bill game in?"

"You pay them anyways," I bite off, then realizing it was a mistake.

He raises his eyebrows. "True," He agrees."I do. With that in mind, would you care to explain the three grand charge on your credit card to the municipal court?"

I sigh, not meeting his gaze and fidgeting with my glasses.

"Aubrey got arrested for reckless driving and a DUI," I quietly admit. "I bailed her out and helped her get back into her house before James and Glynda found out."

When I glance up, I see his self-satisfied look and relax a bit in sheer relief.

"I've never liked that girl," He eventually says. "Nor do I like that she's on Winter's team but I suppose some matters can't be helped."

I say nothing, feeling sick.

"Very well," He says, eyeing me sharply. "Do make sure you're on time for supper."

I nod shortly and quickly step out of the room, all but slamming the door behind me. It's then I see the portrait of my grandfather staring at me and, as I reach for my blood red rose ring on my middle finger, I could have sworn he was watching me.


	3. Chapter 2: Winter Schnee

Allow me to take a moment to explain what a typical Saturday night is like with my family. My mother always manages to look beautiful, but, tonight, she has shifted her hair to cover her black eye. I can tell it is there because I know better, but my younger siblings cannot between her hair and makeup. By around seven, my father will have had a small glass of whisky and my mother will play along with him and kiss the liquor off his laugh while ignoring the suitcases and accounts filled with cash. I have never understood it, but she genuinely loves him even though he is often short of temper and believes money is the one thing in life that can solve all of our problems. That, as it happens, is one of the points on which he and I strongly disagree.

But, of course, I try to tread water and not lose my temper myself. My elder sister and I both have that problem and, yet, he has always favored her. He ignores, too, the toll some of the things she has experienced have had on her. She started drinking lightly at sixteen and by eighteen had a slight problem when she chose to drink and now she is semi-reliant in it to curb her anxiety.

Almost exactly like our mother, actually.

"Winter, darling?" Mom floats into my room and I immediately shut my scroll.

Whether she knows it or not, Weiss and I both heard what father said to her three weeks ago on Weiss' tenth birthday. For that, I can forgive her for being tipsy by nearly nine in the evening.

"Should I come down for supper?" I ask her, standing up. I don't have to ask the question but it's out of habit, just as silently following her is.

She is exhausted. Her eyes are dull and she's numb, both, likely, because of the alcohol. It is more painful to see than I care to admit. Before what happened the night of the party, she had days that were particularly rough and ended like this but the last few weeks have seen more of them than ever. Even Weiss has noticed. Just a few days ago I had to calm her down so she could fall asleep. She had heard our parents yelling at each other down the hall and, though they will never know it, she saw our father slap mom. It was different than the two occasions that I know he has slapped Weiss herself because she had never seen him lose his temper quite like that before.

I cannot help but wonder what my grandfather would make of all of this, had he not died when I was eight. I barely remember him beyond being desperately ill.

"Madame Schnee," Klein says with a smile when we enter the dining room. "You look wonderful as always."

Mom smiles faintly behind her hand and then sits down next to father and across from Cate, who is already drinking. I can remember a time when she wasn't allowed more than one glass because two get her drunk and three or more give her a hangover.

That time is two years gone. Weiss is beside me and I discreetly pat her knee under the table. She looks upset at best and her efforts to hide it aren't doing much. Whitley, across from her, is sitting so stiffly I can hardly believe he is only six.

Thus is my family, I suppose.

"Cate Lynn," Father says, looking sharply at her with a venom behind his calm demeanor. "How was your day?"

Cate glances warily to him. "Fine."

The lie rings out, especially to my ears.

"Care to elaborate?" He prompts.

His eyes have already taken on a smug look and even she, for as blind as she is to the intricacies of human interaction, sees the hidden threat behind his words. Of all four of us, she is often the best off but she has her own limits. He can control her just like the rest of us, no matter her constant skirting off all rules.

"I'm not cutting my hair anymore," She finally says, letting it down. It only reaches her chin. "Not until it reaches my breasts. I'm also going to keep dying it lighter until it's white."

Everyone turns to her in surprise. Whitley and Weiss both show the strong albino traits from mom's family but Cate and I both have dark brown hair, naturally. I went fully white haired at thirteen after a year of lightening, but she dyed hers darker still and hasn't had it beyond her shoulders since she was fourteen. It's completely out of the blue, and, based on the brief flash of shock across his face, it's completely by choice, not because father is holding something over her head to force her hand.

"It's a clean slate," She replies, then hesitantly taking a bite of her stir fry before going on. "Something I desperately need."

She looks to me and, for a moment, we share a knowing look. I incline my head slightly in understanding and sigh, yet I say nothing. I cannot begin to imagine the hopelessness she must be feeling, especially in moments like this where she finishes a bottle of wine in fifteen minutes.

"Well, then," Father says, sending her a sharp look that she either ignores or misses entirely. "That is unexpected."

I meet his gaze, knowing he will except me to be under the spotlight next. Every night is the same, at least in pattern, and I believe I have learned the game well.

"Late again, Winter?" He remarks mildly, shooting Cate a warning look while she continued to sip on either her second or third glass of wine. "What has been going on with you?"

I unflinchingly stare back at him with my lips set in a hard, thin line.

"I've lost sleep studying," I say shortly. "I must have overslept from my nap, which is why mom had Klein wake me."

Klein smiles, and I know it is because I lied.

"I don't like the sound of that," Father puts in, frowning. "Are you quite certain this isn't too much for you?"

I feel my eyes narrow. "I believe I know best what's too much for me."

I am going to pay for that later but, in front of Weiss and, more importantly, Whitley, he only looks back at me disdainfully and my cheek begins to hurt as if he had already slapped me multiple times for what I said.

"I want to attend public school," Weiss mumbles so softly we can barely hear it. "Like Cate and Winter did."

I turn to her in surprise and see her flinch upon the look father gives her.

"Your sisters attended public school because there were not...appropriate options when they were your age," He says calmly. "And it was best for them to continue through the same high school due to inconsistencies in curriculum alignment. You are staying in private education, where the environment is much more controlled and the teachers are better qualified. Are we clear?"

"Yes, father," She says weakly, looking away dejectedly.

"We should give it some thought," Mom says defensively. "You aren't taking into account anything except for —"

"I am not opening this to discussion," He snaps. "_Willow_."

Mom's hands are shaking and she nearly spills her wine on herself.

"Mother?" Whitley starts nervously. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Whitley," She says, her voice wavering. "I'm afraid I'm just not feeling well, that's all."

I do not even have to look at him to know that my father is smugly aware that, once again, he has won.


	4. Chapter 3: Weiss Schnee

"_Damn it, Jacques!" Mom yells, and Winter and I can just barely see them through the slight opening of the door to our father's study. "Weiss is only a child! How is it that you can —"_

"_I am mere inches away from securing permission for the merger with Mantle Energy Industrial!" He yells back. "If you think that a party is more important than that —"_

"_She's your fucking daughter!" Mom shouts, angrier than ever._

_Silence. This is already bad, and it's about to get worse. Why does it have to be about me? I feel Winter's nails digging into my shoulder but I don't stop her. I'm too shocked to. Mom's never been this upset before, not to my knowledge._

"_You need to get a grip, Willow," He finally says in a voice so calm it scares me. "Preferably so the daughter you seem so worried about doesn't grow into a raving mess."_

_Even if I had known what a raving mess was, it wouldn't have mattered. I knew it wasn't good, and it only made me feel worse._

"_Do you even hear yourself?" She whispers, and Winter pulls me back a little. "Jacques, please do this for me."_

_He scoffs. "That isn't working, Willow."_

_Mom seems to brush her hand against her cheek; is she crying?_

"_Please?" She murmurs. "She's our little girl. At least show her you love both of us."_

"_Willow," He replies calmly. "I've never loved you. Have I grown to care for you and our children? Of course. I quite enjoy your company and sleeping with you, but I married you for the SDC and Schnee name. It was never about love."_

_Another terrible silence. I want to cry, and my eyes hurt while Winter pulls me away and all but runs quietly down the hall with me, back to the ballroom. I don't know what else my parents said to each other, but I don't want to. It's too horrible._

"Weiss?" Cate taps her knuckles against my door and steps in. "Hey, how are you doing?"

I stare at her. I admire both my sisters for their strength and wit, but Cate is different. She has almost no control, and barely any filter. Even if she doesn't know what happened last month, she can probably sense it. Maybe that's why she snapped at father the other night.

"Talk less, smile more, don't let them know what you're against or what you're for," She softly sings, pulling me up from sitting on the end of my bed. "That's a philosophy for someone my age and Win's, not yours. You're a kiddo, Weiss, come on, what's on your mind?"

I'm about to cry again. "Does father really not love mom?"

She hesitates. "I used to think he might," She eventually says. "But, all things considered, no, I don't think he loves her."

My face is hot and I can feel tears starting to fall. She tightly embraces me.

"How about I take you into town?" She suggests, and I nod sadly. "We can get pastries at one of the hidden cafes."

I smile. She and Winter always seem to know what I need. Mom too.

"Come now," She affectionately messes up my hair even though I protest. "Oh, Weiss, it's okay to be happy. Why do you think I drink?"

I watch her for a moment but it's clear she hasn't had anything yet.

"Father doesn't like it," I tell her.

She shrugs. "He doesn't have to. He always caves in the end."

"For you," I remind her. My whole life, he's favored her even when they've fought. "And Whitley," I add.

She sighs. "I suppose."

I follow her down the hall, smiling when I realize she's humming. She only does that when she's actually happy.

"We can set it on, set it on, set it on fire," She quietly sings in her beautiful, high voice. "It's too late, baby, let the flames burn higher."

I run up to her and take her hand. She smiles, reaching for her keys and scroll in her purse with her other hand, then quickly begging Klein to bring her car around. I always liked Klein. He brings me things when I'm sick or need them, and he helps all of us.

"I promise I'll only have coffee," Cate tells me. "I'm not irresponsible."

I nod, not really paying attention. It's so rare she takes me out that this is exciting. Winter has always been the one to do things with me. This is a real treat.

"Go ahead, get in the front," She says, motioning to the passenger seat.

I hesitate but do so while she latches herself in and I do the same. She plugs in her music player, and it starts at a volume that I think only she can hear. Cate turns it up and starts singing along a bit. She's shy about it, but I like hearing her sing. She's always had perfect pitch. We drive like this for a little while, listening to her favorite rock band — Love, Robot — but she eventually lowers the volume and glances between me and the road.

"Unless you're a criminal," She starts, tapping her fingers against the wheel. "There's no such thing as having hands tied, even though we're always telling ourselves all sorts of big little lies. You've always got a choice about who you are and what you believe. Look at Win, you know?"

I nod. She rambles like this sometimes, but it's never without a good reason.

"Anyway, I just want you to know you're my baby sister and we all love you," She smiles and pushes up her glasses with a faint laugh. "You know that, right?"

My mind is screaming that father doesn't, but I can't bring myself to say the words. She's ten years older than me. That means she knows more, doesn't it?

Yet Winter's words are screaming in my head and so are Cate's own words. She must hate the truth to want it not to be real.

"Yeah," I mumble, playing with my hair. "Are you sure this is safe?"

She rolls her eyes. "You really think that needs to be asked? I would never let you get hurt, and neither would mommy or Win."

"Okay," I say, mainly to relax her.

"Shit…" She swears, quickly swooping up her scroll and purse from the floor of her car while we're stopped at a light.

We pull into the coffee shop parking lot about fifteen minutes later. It's hidden in an alleyway, but it's pretty despite that. We step quickly out of the car, and she locks it, but I know she's got a lot on her mind.

I wonder if that's what she meant when she told me we all tell ourselves big little lies.


	5. Chapter 4: Whitley Schnee

I play. Not like most kids, but I do. I play piano. I have since I was two. Since then, I have gotten good. Four years is a while, at my age, anyways. I'm six, and the baby of the family. I see a lot. I hear, too. My parents yell at each other a lot. Sometimes it's scary. Mother gets upset, and it makes her cry. It's more, recently. Father is at work a lot. He runs the Schnee Dust Company. Winter will take it over after him. When he's home, either he and mother are okay or they fight. It gets bad quickly. I don't like the noise it makes. It hurts my ears, and it makes me feel sick. I hate that. My sisters do too.

Winter ignores me. I think she hates me. She only cares about joining the military. Weiss is a little better. Sometimes she plays with me. Other times she hides. She doesn't like people. I miss when Weiss and I were friends. I miss Cate too. She's not home much now. She studies a lot, or writes, or reads. I know she spends a lot of time in the library. She also drinks wine. It makes her sick sometimes. Other times it makes her weird, like she's a kid like me. I hear her sing sometimes. It's usually angry. Sometimes it's sad.

Mother sings too. Only when no one can see, though. A few days ago, I saw her on the piano. It was slow, maybe because of her wine. Her singing was pretty, but really sad. She didn't see me, but I hid and listened.

_I need human interaction. I am under stimulated and all my dreams are pulling me into places I know all the while I'm fighting sleep. Darkness is settling around me, my thoughts surround me._

_I don't know love. I don't know hate. I am numb, wish I could find the words to say it. I'm asking please as colors fade. I need to breathe before I turn the world to grey. I, I turn the world to grey. I, I turn the world to grey._

_I have means for satisfaction but a force field stands between on four feet._

_I don't know love. I don't know hate. I am numb, wish I could find the words to say it. I'm asking please as colors fade. I need to breathe before I turn the world to grey. I, I turn the world to grey. I, I turn the world to grey._

_But I will be better. I will be better. I will, I will, I will be better. I will be better. I will be better. I will, I will, I will be better. I will be better. I will, I will, oh_

_I don't know love. I don't know hate. I am numb, wish I could find the words to say it. I'm asking please as colors fade. I need to breathe before I turn the world to grey. I, I turn the world to grey. I, I turn the world to grey._

_But I will be better._

I will be better must be important. She sang that a lot. I've been thinking about it. Maybe she meant she'd stop drinking. Maybe she meant she and father will stop fighting. She sings but I'm quiet. I speak only a little. I don't want to be noticed much. It hasn't worked out well for my sisters. I think it helps. Father likes me. He gets mad at them a lot.

Right now, I'm walking. There's a lot to see around home. There are the gardens. I bet there are rooms I haven't seen. I pause by the piano room. No one is in there. I don't have lessons today. I wait, then I go in. I feel safe here. The music is predictable. When I make a mistake, I can fix it. Music is a perfect real life. It can be managed. It's predictable. People aren't.

My hands are still small. Sometimes I have trouble reaching. I still play. Playing helps. It lets me hide. It lets me speak. I don't sing. The piano does. Only I know it's language. The keys are letters. The notes are words. The chords and melodies are sentences. They think. I'm not scared of it. A lot of things are bigger than me. Being six isn't fun. I feel like a baby that thinks. I think a lot. It's like a secret. I know music better than the other things in life or school. People ignore me. I don't have friends. At kindergarten, other kids throw things and run or climb. I hide. They don't like me. My teacher helps me hide. She's nice. I like Miss Katt. Her daughter is Weiss' age, but she's nice when she sees me.

I sit next to Miss Katt. She reads to me about music. My classmates read about animals that talk and movie characters. They sit in groups of four away from me. I talk only to Miss Katt. When I talk to boys, they hit me. Girls make fun of me. I cry. It's happier to be quiet. I watch them. They think I'm weird. I think they're scary. Miss Katt is like mother. She takes care of me at school. She gets me lunch. I eat in the secret teacher room with her and her daughter. Neon sometimes brings me a small rock. They're dirty, but I keep them. I have ten. They hide in my room. Only Klein knows they're there. He keeps them safe.

In the secret teacher room, it's quiet. Miss Katt and Neon let me talk. They listen. No one else does. I hate school but not them. They're different. Father doesn't know about it. He thinks I have friends. He thinks everyone is nice. Mother knows the truth. She keeps it a secret. She likes Miss Katt. I do too. I talk about music and my family. Sometimes Miss Katt gives me a hug. I like that. She cares a lot. Last week she yelled at some boys that put dirt in my hair. She had the other teacher stay in the classroom. She took me to the teacher bathroom. She fixed me up. She cleaned and dried my hair. It didn't hurt like what the boys did.

I almost scream. I just heard footsteps in the piano room. Now I feel silly. It's just Klein. He brought me water. I start sipping it. He's talking about something. I think it's a good thing. He's smiling. I don't smile a lot. It's hard too. Being happy can hurt.

"Do you want more ice, Master Whitley?" Klein suddenly asks.

I shake my head and he nods.

"Your sisters are out in town," He tells me. "They're shopping for the upcoming company charity ball."

I don't like those balls. It's loud and people are mean.

"Your father is at work and will be home late," He goes on. "And your mother is resting. She has a headache."

Mother gets those after a lot of wine. I think that means she's sad.

"Could you play something for me?" Klein asks with a smile.

I think for a minute but then turn towards the keys. My fingers start to dance. Klein is moving next to me. He moves with the music. I think that means he likes it. I keep playing. I stop when I make a mistake. He pats my shoulder. I keep going. I don't talk. I don't sing. Like I always have to, I keep going with a silent mask on my face.

Being a kid sucks. Being a lonely kid is even worse.


	6. Chapter 5: Jacques Schnee

"I will go tell them, sir."

That young faunus girl blusters, sounding almost guilty before she runs out of my office the way a criminal would. I'll have to look into her background later, too, it seems. Damn the rest of the board for their sympathy for these kids; if they had any sense, they would tell the hiring staff to find seasoned receptionists, runners, and assistants, not these kids. All of them are exactly the same, and I would be willing to bet they all steal money from the company. I would fire the whole lot of them, and the only reason I don't is because it would be, as my eldest so brazenly explained, a PR nightmare, never mind the fact that I can afford some of the best PR and legal teams in Atlas. Those teams handle the acquisitions and the media, which leaves me free to oversee the mining, refinery, and retail operations. I suppose that in and of itself gives credence to the endless comparisons between myself and Rockefeller, however annoying it becomes to see my name in the news. If I had my way, no one would pay attention to me, the company, or my family and we could be free to do what we deemed necessary. The publicity, even though it is, to much relief, becoming less and less, is obnoxious at best. Nicholas may have enjoyed it when he was alive, but I am not him and neither are my wife and children. I cannot stand it.

In a perfect world, I would much prefer that my competitor, Taggert Dust Industries, received attention and, considering that the CEO, Harley Taggert, was recently revealed to be having an affair, I may very well get my wish. He disgusts me, but, if it will take the spotlight off of us permanently, then so be it. I am fully devoted to my wife, regardless of how difficult she can be, and I will look down on those who lack the common decency to lay only with their spouse. After seeing my own parents destroy my life and my sister's with their constant affairs, I refuse to be like them. I meant it when I told them I would cut them out of my life for it and, considering that I have not spoken to either of them in twenty two years, I have succeeded. I have everything, now, except for the privacy I would prefer we have, and my wife, for her drinking and lack of emotional control, is well worth it. Regardless of what she says, I do care for her even if I don't love her. Romantic love is a foolish fantasy, as my parents and even my eldest daughter have proven.

"Jacques!" Blake Adel, the company CFO, exclaims, per his far too jovial nature, upon stepping into my office. "Did you see Rebecca's email? We are in the black already, and it's only the beginning of October."

I irritably raise an eyebrow. "Do you honestly believe I don't know something that important?"

Blake chuckles. "Well, I think it warrants celebration. We're making huge profits early, we're scandal free, and we're fading into the woodwork. I'll tell Rebecca to bring in her family's best champagne this evening for the board meeting."

I smile faintly, considering that it is both good news and amusing of Blake to be so extravagant.

"I am sure the rest of them will appreciate it," I reply.

Blake continues on while I open my computer to check my emails. Sure enough, Rebecca has sent out at least ten bearing the good news and one of them includes a well aimed jest about Harley Taggert and where he can put his dick now that his wife has filed for divorce. Rebecca Carrington is my COO, and a personal friend I attended business school with alongside Blake. She and her wife are both quite quick on their feet, and are PR masters simply by nature. Where Blake is constantly extravagant and jovial, Rebecca is cold and calculating. Right after I received the company, my first act as CEO and chairman of the board was to instate them as my COO and CFO. The rest of them were well respected, seasoned professionals I knew I could trust the advice of but, for the most sensitive matters, I trust only Blake and Rebecca.

Ironically, as it happens, Rebecca reminds me of my eldest daughter if she developed more impulse and emotional control. They are both extremely intelligent and view the world in black and white. Everything is clear cut, or has to be. It's no wonder my daughter is pursuing law. Her judgment is, for the most part, sound even if I — and even her girlfriend, Genevieve — think she might have a bit of a drinking problem.

"Oh, and how's Winter doing?" Blake suddenly cuts in, removing me, unpleasantly, from my thoughts. "Is she still planning to join the military?"

"Yes," I snap. "It's a damn mess, too, considering."

Blake shrugs. "So make Weiss heiress and leave it at that. You're like a new Rockefeller, you can do what you want. Besides, I see Weiss around here far more than I've ever seen your other kids."

He has a point, no matter how obnoxious pointing it out so bluntly may be.

"Ah, Rebecca," I say, never more grateful to see her because of the excuse her presence gives me to ignore Blake's remarks. "It seems you've been raising everyone's spirits around here today."

"I didn't say anything that wasn't true," She replies with a smile. "This is excellent news for everyone."

"Yes, that is undeniable," I say shortly, sending Blake a sharp look. "If Allison comes storming up here in a wild frenzy —"

"I promise my wife won't make a scene," He says, putting his hands up in surrender. "She isn't that bad, though, just excitable."

Rebecca rolls her eyes. "Well, that might be the understatement of the century."

"Hey!" Blake exclaims, scowling at her. "Some of us have an emotional range greater than a teaspoon."

Rebecca lets out an angered huff and stalks out, but Blake, per usual, only laughs.

"We are going to be rolling it at the end of the year," Blake says with a grin. "I have to say, that puts a nice spin on everything."

I laugh shortly. "Yes, it does, although getting this far requires putting a good spin on everything and minimizing...mistakes."

"That is something we all excel at," Blake shrugs. "I have to say, Jacques, I never realized until recently how much of a force to be reckoned with we are. The Taggerts, everyone...they won't see what's coming for them until it's two feet away. God, we are going to be _riiiiiiich_!"


	7. Chapter 6: Willow Schnee

I run. Every single day, I run because the sound of my heart pounding gives me hope. I'm afraid I often find that elusive. It is while my heart knocks against my seated ribs and my feet slam rhythmically against the slightly inclined treadmill that I feel the most free. It is almost as if I lose my shadows, and the feeling is wonderful. It's a short moment, but one —

"Oh, there you are!"

I let out a screech and slam off the machine, then feeling nothing short of silly.

"Rebecca," I say, regaining my composure and smiling when I realize I've been all but flying for an hour.

She sighs. "You look hotter than I ever could in spandex. God, how are you always so tiny? I'm a size six at my best."

I fold my arms across my chest and raise an eyebrow before letting my hair cascade down my back after its bind.

"Well, regardless," She says, reaching into her bag. "I brought you a bottle of my family's best Pinot Noir, to celebrate the company doing much, much more than breaking even," She smirks. "And without incident."

I can't help but glance to the bottle longingly when she sets it down on a nearby shelf.

"Blake's becoming unbearable, though," Rebecca starts, rolling her eyes. "He's always been a little shit, if you ask me. Someone ought to take him to hell and back or...even better,give him a hangover he won't soon forget even if he tries..."

I say nothing, and she apparently thinks that means that she can ramble on. I'm barely paying her any mind as I tie my pale lavender silk robe around myself.

"You know his wife sucked him off in his office the other day? I checked later too, and they was...shall we say...evidence on the underside of his desk."

I turn towards her in surprise. "What?"

Rebecca laughs dryly. "Blake's wife, Allison, got so damn excited about the profits that she sucked Blake off in his office the other day, which I can assure you is true because she startled enough under his desk to move it, even if I couldn't see her."

I grimace at the thought, not particularly enthralled with Rebecca's disturbing fascination with the sex lives of everyone she meets.

"I fired a runner and a secretary the other day, too," She adds nonchalantly. "I caught them fucking in a storage closet like dogs in the summer heat. Oh! And Allison Adel is definitely pregnant again, or why else would she have been wearing those hideous peasant blouses recently?"

I send her a disgusted look and grab the bottle of Pinot Noir off the shelf before starting off towards my bedroom. Per her typical gossip-fueled nature, she follows me like I'm a child she needs to look after. Damn her.

"Although, in fairness," She says with a laugh that puts me on edge. "I was reading Cosmo at ten and wanted to know what turns a man on. Fun fact, there's a reason plebeians like strippers and that is the same reason that strippers can make almost as much money as business executives like us do."

I scowl. "You act as if the world is bowing at your feet, don't you?"

Rebecca snorts and fluffs her hair out haughtily.

"Oh, please," She says, looking rather sour. "If the world was bowing at my feet then my family would still own it. Apparently you can't sleep your way to the top, anymore, like my parents did."

I shake my head. "Has it ever occurred to you that not everything is about sex?"

"Of course," She replies. "But most things aren't as interesting, especially when your job is to tell people what to do and you barely have to lift a finger while your wife makes everything you and your company do look like the right thing."

Mere words cannot express how much I hate this woman and her distractibility.

"Felicity and I like knowing everything about everyone for a reason," She adds, pausing in front of the door while I hold it half closed from the other side. "Especially because it means we always get what we want."

I scowl and all but slam the door in her face, which, to my surprise, elicits a genuine laugh from my husband who is reading in bed.

"I can't stand her either," Jacques tells me. "I only trust her because she has a brilliant mind even though those cigars she always seems to have on hand."

"If you mean she can weave webs of lies without any effort," I say bitterly. "Then you're right."

I don't even need to listen to what he snaps back. He's already shoved the knife in, exactly where I'd been foolish because I had been looking for blinding lights in this hardened home.

"Willow, there is no reason for this," He says, standing up, coming over to me, and pulling me in so delicately that I almost forget what he said. "Are you sure you're alright?"

I nod weakly and let him kiss me. My mind keeps screaming that it's wrong, that he meant it when he said he doesn't love me. For now, even if for just a few hours, I let that fade away. What was I even angry with him about again?

"I'm fine," I finally murmur while he ever so lightly runs his fingers through my hair.

"Good…" He sensually replies.

I know I'm giving in, but I can't help it, not in moments like this. I should know better but it doesn't matter when he's gentle. It makes believe that maybe, just maybe, we'll be okay and, if the years to come prove me wrong, then I suppose I'll be damned and those cameras I started hiding last year will become more than just an escape hatch.


	8. Chapter 7: Whitley Schnee

I see lies. Everything around me is a lie. My mother lies to the man next to her. I think she wants more wine. My father lies to everyone. He talks about how good the company is. He says they're a role model. But he yells a lot. He yells at people from work. He's in charge, so he can do whatever he wants. He's next to mother and Becca. I don't like Becca. She acts nice to me but I saw her hit Cate. She also lies. I hear her laugh and it scares me. She reminds me of the witch from _Sleeping Beauty_. I don't like the noise, either. The ballroom is loud. People drink wine, smoke cigars, and lie. I think it's a game. Everyone is wearing nice things, too. They're all like us. No one here lived without a...trust fund, I think it's called. I see Weiss talking with Winter. I wish they would talk to me. I'm bored and things aren't fun here. I'm hiding behind mother. I'm still tiny so people don't see me. I see them. It's getting louder. Becca says something to...Alson...no, Allison. She's nice. Becca's mean.

"I'm just nervous, I suppose," Allison says. She seems sad. "Coco and Heather are brilliant, for ten and five year olds, and I'm worried their sibling…"

"It'll be fine," Blake says. He's her husband. He's also nice. "And we've got everything and we're going to be riiiich —"

"If you keep chorusing that, I'm going to break a bottle of wine over your head and then force you to lick it off the floor."

See? Becca's mean...and icky.

"Rebecca," Father starts. He sounds mad. "I don't believe this is the time and place for something like that."

"And that wasn't the conversation," Blake says. "Besides, I think Willow's better equipped to give insight than you."

They stop talking. It's still loud.

"Oh, you have nothing to worry about. I mean, with my own children, they're simply remarkable, all four of them," Mother says suddenly and she pulls me into her. She's warm. I like that. She's safe. "Whitley's only six and he's got a well-developed vocabulary and has played piano since he was two."

Becca stares at me. I stare at my feet.

"Clearly unsocialized," She says. "Shyness is absolutely deplorable, not to mention —"

She stops. I look up but I shouldn't. Her wine glass falls from her hands and onto my head. It's wet, sticky, and really dark. It looks like blood, and —

"Stoopin' that low, darling?"

Rebecca swears. Then I see Cate. Her southern accent is really there. It's only heavy when she's feeling something strong. She's wearing a long white fur coat and a long black dress with pearls.

"My brother," Cate starts, looking mad while she touches her glasses. "Is still my baby brother. Callin' him names and spillin' wine on him is pretty cruel, don't you think?"

Becca glares. "You got in my way."

"I was two feet away from you," Cate says.

"Cate Lynn," Father starts. He sounds scary. "If you are about to publicly humiliate another business partner of mine, then we may have to discuss your credit cards again."

"I never publicly humiliated any of your business partners," Cate replies. "I think you're talkin' about your COO right there."

Father glared at her but says nothing. I think that means she's right.

"Charming," Rebecca says. She looks at Cate angrily. "Well, Cruella, if you'll excuse me, I have a bone to pick with one of my arch-rival: Harley Taggert...the bastard."

She walks off but slaps Cate. Father protests. He's always liked her best. I think it's because she's like him...although she's also like mother. Cate seems upset. She doesn't cry. Why doesn't she? I would. I want to. I'm trying not to but can't help it. I feel really bad.

"Cate," Mother murmurs. "Why don't you take your brother upstairs and help him clean up?"

Father nods. I think everyone wants to get rid of me. Cate gently picks me up. I'm not heavy, and she's strong. I see Winter and Weiss notice. They both seem upset. I think they know. I bet they saw what happened. Cate tries to shield me from the people watching in the ballroom. She's so much bigger than me and helps me a lot. She doesn't seem to care about her fur getting sticky. I don't know how she isn't. I'd be mad. I'm just sad. I feel like a baby...maybe I am. Cate sets me down when we get into my bathroom. She grabs a few towels and gets them wet. It's a little itchy when she uses the towels to clean my hair but I don't complain. She's trying to make me feel better. It takes a few minutes. Then it doesn't itch. She pats me on the back. I go into my closet and put on my pyjamas. My clothes are really messy. I hope Klein can fix them. He's good at fixing things. I want to reach for my stones. The ones from Miss Katt and Neon. They make me feel better. I think it's because they're nice. Miss Katt doesn't treat me differently. Cate, Winter, Weiss, and mother are like that. Father isn't. He thinks we're special...or important, I think. I want to be normal...and I wish I had friends. I don't feel special. I feel bad...shirty is what Winter calls it. I'm pretty sure that's how she said it. Either...shirty or...shitty. When I come back into the bathroom, I see myself. I start to cry...this was no fun.

"Whit?" Cate says, loosely hugging me. "If you're upset, it's okay to show it."

I shake. "Father says —"

"To hell with projectin' perfection," She sighs and lets me go. "We're human, Whit. That means we feel things. Okay?"

I nod. "Okay…" I say, not sure I get it.

Cate turns me towards the mirror and shakes her head.

"I'm sorry about what happened," She says gently. "I'll tell Klein to check on you."

I cry as soon as she's gone. I hate how I look. I'm still sticky and my clothes are covered in wine. My hair looks pink. I hate it. Why does everything have to be a lie or a fight?


	9. Chapter 8: Winter Schnee

Madness is the only word I have to describe the increasingly fraught situation in my family. Since the day of the ball two weeks ago, even when I have been home, things have been difficult. Mom has spent most of her time alone, and the only times I have seen her have been once in the garden and every night at supper. I wish I were living at the academy during weeks like this but I am not naive enough to imagine that. My father would go ballistic, if he knew I wanted to live on the grounds. He is already opposed to my decision to join the military in two years, and I know that making a suggestion of that caliber would put me, to use the common phrase, in hot water.

He, of course, has seen no problem in the last few weeks even though poor Whitley still has a pink tinge to his hair which, knowing how cruel children can be, cannot make school easy for him. Weiss and I have worked with her semblance a little on the weekends but, only heightening my anger towards my father, she has broken down in upset when she has failed because she is convinced she will never be able to show any power or independence. Ironically, she believes Cate is the freest of all of us but, while Cate has always been an aloof free spirit with sharp wit and nothing short of a brilliant mind, she's only lucky. I will not deny how much she gets away with, but she and I both know she treads a thin line. She is perhaps the most spoiled of all of us, yet she also seems to be a step ahead. I have to admit, it has impressed me for years and I do admire her ironclad will.

The tragic thing is, now, she is nothing but strong. I think it has been an hour, but she has been sobbing and struggling to speak. So, as much as I can, I have tried to listen and soothe her. I never imagined my sister would be crying into my shoulder because she overstepped, but she is. She told me how, the night of the ball, she had to cancel a date with her girlfriend at the last second and Genevieve had been upset about it. What was shocking, and what actually hurt my sister, was that, this afternoon, when she went to attempt to make amends, she walked in on her now-former girlfriend having, shall we say, relations with someone else. I can barely imagine it.

"Shh…" I whisper, stroking her hair. "It's not your fault, Cate."

"Yes it is…" She mumbles. "I'm bad at love."

"No, you're not," I try and reassure her, despite knowing nothing about how to help my big sister. "Genna is, because she's the one who cheated on you for God knows what reason. It has nothing to do with you."

Cate starts sobbing again. "It always does!"

I never thought I would have to act like the eldest to my big sister, nor did I ever think she would ever get so cut up.

"It's the same damn pattern," She says weakly. "Every time. I get in too deep with someone who doesn't give a damn and has me wrapped around their finger. Maybe dad was right all along…"

"No," I say with force that even I myself am surprised by. "He is not right, and certainly not about you. You will find someone...but I know how things feel right now. Just...don't let him win or think he has. I told you this is not about you and it isn't. It's about her and, I suspect, the way you let father manipulate you isn't helping you feel better."

She runs a hand through her hair and begins to fidget with her glasses. Even though she must be trying to suppress it, I know she's struggling not to keep crying.

"He manipulates all of us," Cate eventually says. "Me with his money, you and Weiss with force, Whitley with all those expectations no kid should be held to, and mommy with...with…"

I think we all know exactly how father keeps mom in line with his...ideal, but I am the only one whom has ever said it.

"With guilt," She finishes heavily, staring at her feet.

Why is it that — even when you know the truth — it still hurts to hear it aloud?

"Yes," I quietly agree. "He always has."

For me, I have seen the angered looks in my father's gaze. Whether it is directed towards myself, my siblings, or my mother, I cannot help but feel I am being blinded or attacked. I know my father has his own games, and I am well aware of how skilled he is when it comes to playing them. All my life, I have been forced to endure his temper and I have had to grovel for any sense of approval. When I was younger, all I wanted from him was affection. My mom was always willing to oblige and she has always been here for us but things are starting to change. She is more distant, more afraid, and more upset. I know without even broaching the subject how deep father's revelation cut her.

There have always been too many secrets and lies between them but the worst, so far as I can tell, has finally come to light. Weiss has taken it personally, something I do not understand yet know is weighing on her. It is not right, not in the slightest, for a ten year old to have to feel such a burden. Truthfully, there is not anywhere to run from all of the havoc in my family and I am probably doing my baby sister wrong by telling her to move on when I myself have found my mind spinning lately. The terrible thing that has kept me awake relates to our mother. Foolish as it likely is, I cannot help but be troubled by her words from just the othernight. She told me I am not the same as my siblings, and that she "sees James" in me more than herself. I know she was wasted, and I know she could have been referring to my ambitions but it felt wrong. Almost like a confession. I do not want to believe the wild story my mind has created from my mom's words but I cannot shake it either.

Even more so, I have never known my mom to lie.

"Cate Lynn," I eventually say, once she has stopped crying and is awkwardly cleaning the lenses of her glasses. "I hate to do this, but I need you to do me a favor."

She looks up in surprise. "What kind of favor?" She asks, her eyes still puffy.

I swallow hard, scarcely believing my own nerve.

"You've spent a lot of time with General Ironwood over the years because of how close you are with Aubrey and because of his close friendship with mom," I begin ever so slowly, only continuing when she nods. "I need you to ask...if there's something about me he knows mom is keeping secret."

Cate stared at me for a moment but then nods again.

"Alright," She says, twisting her hair in her hands. "It shouldn't be too bad. He's almost like another parent to me, after all."

I smile weakly at her words but the little faith I have to spare is, now, in her unparalleled ability to get her way.


	10. Chapter 9: Cate Lynn Schnee

"You look a wreck," Aubrey remarks, playfully jabbing me in the arm while she drags me towards James' study. "Want me to find the cheating bitch and hand her ass to her on a silver platter?"

I laugh, for once honestly amused.

"Do whatever you want," I tell her with a sassy smirk. "I just don't wanna be directly associated with it."

Aubrey winks and presses her ear against the door. My siblings constantly joke about my supposed knack for stealth but, if I picked it up anywhere, it was Aubrey who taught me her tricks once she learned I knew how to pick locks and feel auras. So, of course without warning and tearing me from my (tumultuous) thoughts, she rips open the doors to James' study with a grin.

"Helllllllooooooo!" She choruses. "I brooooought someone!"

Glynda, who sets down her book in the corner, sighs in exasperation.

"I'm sorry, dear," She says, motioning for me to sit down while my best friend swaggers out of the room with a slam of the doors. "I doubt you were expecting to be paraded around like you joined the circus."

I shrug, more than used to all of Aubrey's quirks from over the years.

"I probably should be apologizing for busting in on you," I say awkwardly, rubbing my neck and then fidgeting with my glasses. "I...I know things have been busy lately, what with the embargo and with the new assassinations of terrorist leaders."

James looks to me in surprise but then shakes his head.

"You listen well, Cate," He finally says. "I'm sure Jacques doesn't appreciate it, but, I have to admit, I'm impressed. Really, and I know you're probably tired of hearing this, you would have done well in the military."

"That's what everyone says," I say mildly. "But I think I'm better suited for law...using facts to contest points and throw guilty people in jail."

Glynda smiles. "You are going to be an excellent prosecutor, aren't you?"

A moment passes in heavy silence before James turns back to me, looking rather concerned.

"I've known you since you were a baby, Cate," He says gently. "And I know you didn't just show up out of the blue to talk. Wha going on? Willow told me about what happened a few years ago. Is someone threatening your life again?"

I stare down at my hands, feeling almost ashamed. I hate all of the feelings my mind is dredging up right now and —

"Are you sure you're alright, dear?" Glynda presses, lightly resting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "You look sick."

"I...I just…" I sigh heavily, trying to get a grip on myself even though all the scars on my wrists are in stark focus. "I'm not here for myself this time. I've asked enough of you both over the years."

Glynda shakes her head. "You were about nine when I married James, and, believe me, since then I have come to think of you almost as my own child. If anything, you're a good influence on Aubrey."

James chuckles. "She herself was a surprise and she really hasn't stopped stunning us."

I bite at my lip for a little before I speak.

"A lot has…happened in the last few months at home," I eventually say. "It seems everyone in my life has more secrets than I could have imagined and my mom isn't exempt. She told Winter the other night that you're her father. Is that true, or —"

I stop short upon James and Glynda exchanging knowing looks.

"This is...complicated," He says, sighing heavily. "But, yes. Winter is my daughter."

I cross my arms. "Complicated?"

"Willow and I had an affair when you were about a year old, a little less, and Jacques was consistently lashing out because of attacks on the company and disagreements with your grandfather," He says, standing up and beginning to pace. "Three months after our relationship ended, she discovered she was pregnant and thought it was Jacques' until she found out the date of conception, which made that impossible. Glynda and I had just started seeing each other when I found out...something she thought was a joke when I told her."

Glynda scoffs. "I did not think you were joking. The fact that I deciddd I needed a drink was because I was shocked."

James stops for a second and takes her hand affectionately.

"I made a mistake," He says tiredly. "For obvious reasons, Jacques doesn't know. I never thought Willow would say anything, though. I had meant to tell her when I got the chance but...with her ambitions to —"

"Win sent me here," I tell him. "Believe me, I think she just wanted confirmation."

More silence. Damn, this really is my life now. Oh, well, I guess someone will have to break it and that will probably be me since I lack any semblance of —

"Aubrey doesn't know either," Glynda puts in, worriedly rubbing his back. "Funnily enough, my own recklessness at twenty three was why she was born well before Jamie and I finally got married."

"Glynda —" He starts.

"It's a good thing," She says with a smile. "Her brother was only two when we got married, remember?"

I really should get Cameron Ironwood to help me find someone. He's plugged in fucking everywhere...or maybe Luke Mar —

"I remember," He says, then looking back to me. "Cate, I have to ask, why did you come instead of forcing Winter to?"

I have to wonder that myself. I'm usually extremely pushy about people seeking truth for themselves.

"Because family is family," I unflinchingly reply (once I finish thinking of it, of course). "I couldn't leave her out to dry...not like that."

What I can't bring myself to say is that I'm selfish enough as it is. Doing something like that would only have proved the worst: that I am a rich girl who has gone to far because I know nothing really matters to long as I can rely on the old man's money. God, it really does make me a bitch.


	11. Chapter 10: Jacques Schnee

"Oh, for…"

Rebecca swears — somehow under her breath but still loud enough for Blake to hear — upon entering the board room, a scene she so often repeats thereby making this seem routine. I don't begrudge her it this time, though, considering that, of all things, Blake brought his wife with him. As if that weren't bad enough, he seems more than happy with her sitting on his lap, which is irritating to me at best. As it happens, Rebecca seems far more annoyed with him than I do — a relief if anything. Perfectly, she and I sit down and, after she allows a few seconds to pass in fleeting silence, I need not lift a finger to berate him for this. I may not know anyone else with the skill Blake has when it comes to numbers, ledgers, and all manners of finance, but there are moments — much like this — where I question how that is possible when he seems to be possessed by two things: his jovial nature and his dick.

"Lovely," Rebecca says, pursing her lips. "You seem to have become the company whore as well as the CFO."

Blake scowls. "Sounds like someone has taken one too many of her daily bitchy pills."

"And it seems like you've been taking too many of those pills that make your dick bigger," Felicity taunts. "All things considered."

Though she may be more dirty minded than her wife, Felicity Carrington's ability to put a spin on even the unbelievable is why she is the head of public relations for the SDC.

"I've actually been blessed my entire life and don't need my dick to be bigger," Blake childishly retorts. Even his wife seems nervously uncomfortable with his words. "I would show you, but I don't want to risk getting it chopped off."

Felicity smirks at Rebecca and pats her hand while she sits down beside her and I begin to look through emails. I loathe being forced to endure a spectacle like the one at the ball, but it will not stop me from being productive.

"Oh?" Felicity says with such venom I glance towards her, soon to wish I hadn't. "Poor Blake Adel," She purrs. "You think I'd do that the nice way and you forget my humble agricultural upbringing. No, Blake, I'd hog tie and castrate you like you're a prize at the state fair."

"We would all prefer if you didn't," I say coldly. "I'm sure that you are the only one who finds that notion appealing."

"Thank you!" Blake says, ignoring the dark looks both Rebecca and Felicity are sending him. "Now! The reason we are all here! To the Taggert family's misery! To good fortune! To being riiiiiiiiiiich!"

Allison turns bright pink and attempts to hide her face in her husband's chest.

"Are you high?" Rebecca asks disdainfully. "And, I feel compelled to ask, why is your wife here when her work is in fashion design?"

Allison mumbles something that is utterly incomprehensible in reply, thus causing Blake to become, if possible, more unbearable.

"You brought yours," He sasses. "And we're talking huge sums of money here. Since Ally and I have kids and are expecting another, I think it's only fair we get the largest cut."

Rebecca snorts. "Jacques and Willow have more children than you and he doesn't feel the need to drag her around and have her crawl on him and feel him up and smile and be a bit of a —"

"That's enough, Rebecca," I say, scowling at her but soon turning to Blake and Allison. "I will say, Allison, that you're welcome to stay but don't feel as if you're held hostage to Blake's grasp."

Allison blushes behind her hand and quickly slides into the chair beside him.

"And we are splitting the...excess profits evenly amongst the board," I remind them. "I believe that decision was made almost a month ago."

Blake smirks. "What is business without negotiations?"

I sigh in exasperation and Rebecca, without fail, begins to snipe at him. Even during graduate school, their petty arguments could go on for hours. Regardless, it matters little whom it is receives what cut. At a certain point, a couple hundred million lien is a couple hundred million lien. Evidently, that appeared to be Harley Taggert's approach to attempting to resolve the situation caused by his affairs. I find it almost ironic that my most bitter business rival is the opposite of myself; he clearly has no respect for his wife or for his family while I have spent years holding mine together. I have no doubts that romance is a fantasy but mutual respect and understanding are not. Oh, Willow and I have our quarrels but we have never strayed, knowing full well the damage it would do. We have weathered the years, even with Cate Lynn's recklessness clashing with her brilliant mind, even with Winter's attempts to walk over all she has, even with Weiss' selfishness, and even with Whitley's silence. I see perfection in what we have created, although I can't deny that it is becoming more and more of an illusion. In that sense, Blake and Allison are lucky and Rebecca and Felicity are spared. It is much better than what I had long hoped for, but it is why I desperately require us to fade into the woodwork. Taggert may be a dumbass, a prick, and a bastard but he's unwittingly doing us all an immense favor.

"I have to say, though," Blake says after a minute — or perhaps two — passes in silence. "I could have sworn I caught a resemblance between James and Winter at the ball. I was probably just wasted, but —"

"They look nothing alike," Rebecca snaps, evidently as frustrated with his tangents as me if more willing to show it. "I was there. You were drunk off your ass."

"You were," Allison murmurs. "And I'm starting to think you read too much. Don't you remember how happy Willow was when she found out she was pregnant with Winter?"

I send her a grateful look and try to not seem too exasperated.

"I will pay you to stop talking," I say, sliding a one hundred lien note across the table to Blake. "For the rest of the meeting of course."

Blake hesitates but sure enough pockets the note and smiles at all of us, looking far more like the Joker than like a serious billionaire.

"Impressive," Rebecca says with a smirk. "I will say one thing: I agree with him that you are just as suave and powerful as Rockefeller once was."

So much as I detest the comparison, I nod.

"Yes," I say. "Shall we get down to business?"

"We shall," Felicity tosses her hair haughtily over her shoulder. "We will take down the Taggerts, and we will be swift as a coursing river, powerful as a great typhoon, and as shrouded in mystery as the dark side of the moon."

I stiffen despite myself. I cannot place a finger upon it, but there is something about her words that deeply unnerves me. It is almost as if there is something grave afoot — something torrentially destructive while we remain ignorant in the eye of the hurricane.


	12. Chapter 11: Weiss Schnee

"Sorry, kiddo," Cate says, affectionately ruffling my hair as soon as she steps out of Winter's room. "Gotta go. Luke Mar is taking me out for lunch."

I don't think she knows I was eavesdropping. I know she taught me, but she's secretive. I guess we all have to be. I don't like what I heard, though. She made Winter cry and she almost never does that. Besides, what she said didn't make sense. How would General Ironwood be Win's father? Mom doesn't lie to us, so it doesn't add up. But she said he and Glynda told her it was true. My head is starting to spin, I'm so confused. It sounds like a penny dreadful but it also sounds real. Why would Winter have needed to know something like that, too? She and father don't like each other very much, but I thought they understood each other. Maybe I was wrong.

I know Win is going to be mad at me when she realizes I was listening but I have to know what is true. I think she feels that way too. I push the door in a little further so she knows I'm coming and I feel guilty when she smiles at me. It doesn't seem like a happy smile, though. Her face is still a little pink, her hair isn't put up like normal, and her cheeks look like they are still wet from tears. I give her a big hug, knowing she needs it. I'm not used to her being upset and I don't like it. Sometimes it's because of father and I think it's because of that this time even if what Cate said isn't true. I really hope it isn't. I know mom wouldn't do something like what she suggested.

"Win," I say after she stops crying. "I —"

"You were listening," Winter says quietly, prying me off of her and patting my back. "Weren't you?"

I nod. I don't want to say it.

"Come with me," She takes my hand and starts leading me down the hall to mom's room. "Since father is out of town, it's probably best to get this over with. But I need you to promise something."

I stare at her while we stop outside of mom's room. I'm getting nervous.

"Weiss," She says gently. "Nobody can know about this if it's true."

"I know."

I feel helpless. I can't change anything, I can't make things better, and I can't —

"Winter?" Mom says, floating into the doorway with a glass of wine. She always has wine now. "Weiss? What is it? Has something happened?"

"Mother," Winter says nervously while mom brings us in and closes the door. "Do you remember what you told me the other night?"

Mom frowns. Is she mad or can she not remember?

"Your father left this morning for Vale, didn't he?" Mom glances to me and then starts drinking again. I don't like this. "Hmm...oh! Was it about what James told me at the ball regarding your prowess as a fighter?"

Winter ruefully shakes her head and I sit down hoping it will stop. I wish they weren't playing games when it's serious.

"Mother," Win finally says, her voice shaking. "I'm asking you if he's my...my father."

Mom drops her wine glass and it shatters everywhere, causing me to flinch backwards and scream. She then stumbles, holding her head, before sitting down herself.

"I told you that?" Mom says breathlessly.

Win nods, looking like she's going to cry.

"Yes," She says, "You did."

Mom doesn't say anything right away. I doubt she can. I don't think any of us know what the right words are now.

"Jacques doesn't know," She finally says, sounding sad. Everything father does makes her sad now. "You, my second baby, are the only child I've had that was not his. It was impossible."

Winter bites her lip. "The general said as much."

Mom looks shocked. "You spoke to him about this?" She chokes out.

Win shakes her head. "Cate did."

Mom buries her face in her hands and starts to cry. I hate it, but I can't help but be thinking about what father said to her only my birthday a few months ago.

"I am begging you girls not to let another soul know the truth," Mom says, crying. "I'm ashamed of what I did but Jacques drove me to that desperation. All of these years I've thought he was mine and then he doesn't —"

"Mother —" Winter starts pleadingly.

"I believe he loved me at one point," Mom says weakly. I want to run and hide like I did before but I can't. Why is everyone so sad? Why is my family so bad? "Or, at least, I wanted to believe it. All of these years, I've tried to hold everything together and be what my emotionally distant parents weren't and yet…"

"Mommy…" I curl into her, refusing to let myself cry but needing comfort. It's terrible. "I love you."

"I know you do, baby," Mom murmurs, running her fingers through my hair. "I love you too."

"So," Win says, sounding detatched. "Now I have the truth."

"Yes," Mom agrees sadly. "You do."

Everyone is quiet again. This is probably about to get worse. Everything is worse when there's silence because you just don't know anything.

"I want things to be right again," I mumble weakly. "Before things got bad."

"We all do," Winter says darkly. "But it isn't going to happen."

"You two are both still young," Mom says. "I may be unable to make things right but that doesn't mean you two can't. You have a better chance than I ever did...and I don't want you to squander it."

"We won't," Winter crosses her arms and looks out the window. "If this is the worst of it, then I imagine we're about to become pretty well off."

"I don't deny it," Mom says.

"Weiss?" Win asks gently. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," I tell her. I don't want her to cry or mom to drink more. "We'll be okay right?"

I hate what I said because I lied. I just feel numb. I think it's pretty lies, ugly truth, and a waste of years and youth but I'm still only ten: how am I supposed to understand any of this?

"Of course we will," Winter promises. "Don't worry."

"She's right," Mom whispers, holding me close like when I was itty bitty. "One way or another."

My sister was right about us telling big little lies. I can't bring myself to be honest and neither can anyone else. It's all about appearances.

Just like father said.


	13. Chapter 12: Willow Schnee

An...unspoken tension has been in the air since Jacques returned from his business trip a few weeks ago and I wish there were something to tell me what it was about. I'm utterly terrified that he figured out what Winter, Cate Lynn, and Weiss now know. He'd be more than angry, he would be…

I can't. I can't bring myself to even admit how he's react. My hands are shaking, my wine is quivering in the glass, and I take it back all at once in an attempt to calm my nerves. My mind is wandering like it has been all day. To be honest, I'm having a hard time thinking straight when all I can focus on is my own woes. I haven't even been able to enjoy the moments when Jacques and I have been alone and his affection shows. I can't help but question his own words. If he doesn't love me, he has no reason to be as affectionate as he is when it's just the two of us. I suppose maybe the tension is my fault. I can't seem to even let him kiss me anymore without it feeling wrong. My own damn stupid young mistakes are...they're…

Last night, I was desperately drunk but still thinking clearly. Everything was in sharp focus; the way he spoke, the tender way he cupped my cheek. I couldn't take it. In our marriage, I'm no better than a fraud. I know what it was that brought up my guilt, too.

Jacques has always called me birdie when we're alone, an affectionate name he has always reserved for me alone. I caught sight of my own reflection in the vanity when he gently called me his "little birdie" and, out of nowhere, I suddenly felt wretched. I dropped my hairbrush in shock; he wrote it off to the alcohol but it was an instinctive slip, as if the brush were suddenlyvtio heavy for me to keep holding onto. My mind was swimming by then and I nearly fainted. He had been concerned — I know now that I probably seemed far more wasted than I actually was — but I know he had questions and still does. If the girls...no, if he compells them to explain what's truly happening then I'll...no, no they would never. The three of them know enough dark secrets to last a lifetime, and they'd never tell. Looking at myself now, I find myself growing weak again. My hair is cascading down in soft waves, my eyes seem dulled, and I somehow seem paler than usual if that is even possible. I have no idea what to do. I could never come clean, yet I can't live like this. I want Jacques to love me more than anything right now, no matter how angry we may become with each other, but is that a fantasy? I'm really so hopeless, or am I...maybe he's right. Maybe I am a birdie helplessly trapped away.

"He's a cold hearted rake," A rough voice says, drawing nearer down the hall. "I pity his kids, having to grow up in an environment like this. I never thought I'd feel bad for such brats, but I do."

"Keep your voice down," Another begs. "I don't even know where we're…"

Right. There is another charity ball tonight. I had completely forgotten about it. Hearing the footsteps stop, I step out into the hall. I'm suited well enough to make an appearance; my red silk, fitted gown sweeps down to my feet and I'm wearing pearls that are probably worth more than I'd ever care to know. I may not feel well, but I held through enough of these before. I —

"Qrow, you idiot," The second voice from the hall says upon a tall man with scruffy hair nearly running into me. "That's not how you treat rich ladies."

"Okay, Tai, geez," He says, straightening himself out and then extending his hand. "My apologies. I'm Qrow Branwen, a hunter...and available."

I lightly shake his hand with a smirk. "Willow Schnee. Based on what I could hear, you've already met my husband."

He immediately looks around awkwardly, much to my amusement and, as it happens, the enjoyment of his friend Tai.

"We were told about some chocolate and champagne by a butler named Klein," Tai explains in between his laughter. "Seems like he was pulling our legs. Sorry about him, by the way. He doesn't know what manners are, since he was basically raised by wolves."

"That's a generous way to put it," Qrow mutters. "Damn it, I wasn't trying to be rude! I was just saying —"

"Oh, please, I'm not offended," I tell them, rolling my eyes and waving my gloved hands dismissively. "I fell in love with the devil, by all accounts."

Qrow just about falls over again and Tai's jaw almost drops the floor in complete disbelief. I know that everyone thinks I'm oblivious to my husband's manipulative nature, but just because I often am entangled in it doesn't mean I'm blind. He may the devil or a cold hearted rake, but he's at least mastered being handsome about it.

"Sweet Jesus," Qrow says, finally getting a hold of himself. "You sound like that little blonde girl!"

"That would probably be my eldest daughter. Did she have green eyes and glasses?" I chuckle softly when he nods, still shocked. "I should have known. She still hasn't learned to talk less and smile more."

If it's even possible, Tai's jaw drops even further at my words.

"Allow me," I say, pushing his mouth shut. "I think you might have dropped something."

"She has you!" Qrow exclaims excitedly. "Ha! And I thought this night couldn't get better after my spat with Jimmy!"

Jimmy. James. It may be a long shot, but I get the feeling his talking about my James. The man who has been like another father to my eldest and the man who —

"Yes and Oz was so happy about that!" Tai replies sarcastically. "You're a dumbass, you know that? Glynda keeps saying it, but you never listen."

"Well, it sounds like this ball isn't boring, to say the least," I say, winking. "Care to join me? I imagine you'll actually find the sweets you're looking for this time. Unlike Klein, I'm far more amused by what I can actually see."

Qrow shrugs. "Why the hell not? I do have to say, though, that you aren't what I expected. More like a straight-laced, silent dove."

I flinch despite myself but manage a small smirk nonetheless. "And yet," I say jokingly. "You two saw past my husband's facade when most people believe he's exactly what he shows."

"Really?" Tai shakes his head. "I have to hand it to you. I can't imagine being tied forever to someone like him. Everyone hails him as a new Rockefeller. I wonder if they realize that there's more to life than money."

"Most of these people know nothing else," I sigh just in front of the doors to the ballroom. "I see it every damn day, not just in my kids but...in myself."

It's almost like walking into a morgue; my heart feels heavy again and I know that, while Jacques is better than most, he is awful in his own ways. In our family, that seems all the more pronounced in all of us.

I'd hate to see what my father would say if he could see me now.


	14. Chapter 13: Whitley Schnee

"Snob."

"I heard his mother hates his father."

"Bet he wouldn't be so confident without all that money they sit on."

"My brother goes to the same university as one of his sisters, and he heard her exclaim that she couldn't possibly handle being poor because she doesn't know how."

"Sheesh. Isn't his other sister in the military?"

"Doesn't matter. They're all snobs."

"Just goes to show what being rich does."

"You guys are dumb. We're all from rich families. This is an elite private school, duh."

"They're different. They'll never be like us."

"Cut it out! He's a little kid!"

"Ha. Bet that doesn't change much. They're all the same. Lifestyles of the rich and the famous, you know? Besides, even his name proves it. My little brother is in his kindergarten class and calls him Shitley —"

"I beg your pardon?"

Miss Katt steps in front of me. She had to get a book from Miss Violet. I also like Miss Violet. She teaches music. She also tutors me in piano. Mother doesn't play much with me anymore. I think she's sad. I was waiting. The big kids always talk when they walk between classes. I'm glad I only have on teacher. I'm scared for first grade. Miss Katt won't be able to protect me. I wish I were normal. Maybe people wouldn't be mean.

"Apart from your vulgarity," Miss Katt keeps talking. She seems angry because those kids were talking. I think she knows they all hate me. "That is no way to talk about anyone, much less a child that is able to hear you."

One of them snickers. She looks scary. There are diamonds in her eyes brows.

"We're just joking around," She says. I don't like her voice. It reminds me of the balls. I don't like those. Everyone lies. "Like, it's not a big deal so get off our chiz."

Miss Katt looks more angry. She is scary when she's angry. Why aren't they scared? I am and I don't think she's mad at me.

"Is that so?" Miss Katt calmly repeats. "I should think you'll have no trouble explaining to you parents, then, why you decided to act cruelly towards a six year old."

I can't hide. Miss Katt pats my head. The girl scares me. I scream when I see her tail. She hits me with it. My face doesn't feel good.

"You're one of us!" She shouts. It's like when my father gets mad. I shudder. "Faunus like us suffer every damn day because of the Schnee empire! Damn their money! Damn their attorneys! Damn the fucking board of the Schnee Dust Company! Why the hell are you defending one of them?"

Miss Katt looks tense. "Because," She said slowly. "Children are never to blame for their parents' sins. If that were the case, then we would all be worth hating."

"It's different with them!" The girl yells. "I don't care that we're all rich! The Schnee family can go and suck my —"

"Miss Greenshire!" Someone new gasps. He's wearing a suit. I think he's the school director. "Apart from being completely inappropriate, why are you shouting at a teacher? Miss Katt, I'm sure, has better things to do and you and your friends ought to be staying in the dinning hall during your lunch hour rather than wandering the halls."

The girl swears but they leave. He leaves too. I want to cry. Miss Katt pats my shoulder. We walk back to the room. I'm not with the rest of the class. Miss Katt and another lady said they're doing testing. Why am I being testinged? Did I do something bad? I sit down. Miss Katt and the woman pull out some pictures. I'm quiet. I feel bad. I don't like meanies. Why do they hate me? I'm not mean. I don't talk much.

"Whitley," Miss Katt says kindly. She points to the picture. "Can you tell me what you think is happening here?"

It's a funny picture. Monkeys are sitting on a couch. I thought monkeys sat on trees.

"They're monkeys," I tell her. "Where are the trees? Monkeys like trees."

Miss Katt takes another picture. I get it. It's a girl. She's standing in a doorway. Mommy does that a lot. Sometimes she falls over.

"How about this one?" Miss Katt gently says. "What's happening here?"

I stare. I want to cry. "She looks like mommy," I say quietly. "After a fight. Mommy and daddy yell sometimes."

Miss Katt frowns. "Does that upset you?"

I shake my head. "It's okay. Cate snd Win said it's normal."

I look at the other woman. She's scribbling. I see her papers. They're hard to read. All I catch is "eldest sister dia...nosed with Asperger thrice by eighteen" and "difficult family life." What does thrice mean? Who's Asperger? I'm confused. Cate is like me. She focuses on her favorite things. She's also super duper smart. She doesn't have a lot of friends. I think she's okay. She has five friends. I want five friends. Miss Katt puts the pictures away. The other woman leaves. I don't get it. What's going on?

"You're a very smart boy, Whitley," Miss Katt says. I nod. I like her. "Just like your sisters. I know everyone in your family is incredibly intelligent, but I think you need to be told it. You've had it hard enough."

I move my hand. My eyes are tearing. I'm crying again.

"I'm sorry about those kids from earlier," She adds. "But I want you to know that the world isn't always like that. It'll get better. You just have to give it time."

"Whitley, darling?"

I turn around. Now mommy is in the doorway to the room. I run and hug her. She hugs me too. She seems happy. I like that.

"How are you doing?" She asks. "Was your day good?"

I don't want to cry. I shake my head. I can't talk now.

"It was fine until a little while ago," Miss Katt tells her. I cling to mommy. "Some of the older students were mistreating him. Don't worry, though. I dealt with the situation."

Mommy looks sad. "Are you okay?" She hugs me tight.

I don't say anything and just hold onto her. I like her perfume. It makes me feel better.

"He was a bit shaken up," Miss Katt explains. "Those teens caught him by surprise and, I'm sure, said nastier things than just what I heard them say."

Mommy sighs. "I'll make sure he's okay. Do you know when the test results come back?"

"A few weeks," Miss Katt says. "I doubt it will be too much unexpected."

"I know," Mommy says. "I just want to make sure he can cope. It was hard for his sister and, truthfully, I don't think we did enough for her."

"These things take time," Miss Katt replies. "I can promise, though, that he'll be okay."

Everyone says that. Why am I different? Why is everything so sad? I miss happy. Where did happy go?


	15. Chapter 14: Winter Schnee

I wake up to the sound of something breaking, only to find that the glass of my window is shattered. Glancing at the time, I cannot stop fear from chilling me to the bone. Even my elder sister, the night owl of the family, is never up at three in the morning. The sun has yet to begin to break out on the horizon and will not for hours. My hands begin to shake despite my attempts to remain calm. If I am frightened by this, then I am never going to be able to handle life in the military. Now more than ever I have to prove my father — no, _Jacques_ — wrong. I slowly creep out of bed, my sword still hanging on my closet door. I flip on the lights to the room and find no one there, confirming to me that, whomever broke my window, is no longer in my room. I suppose it is a small comfort but I am far from at ease. I quickly pull on a bra and slippers before taking my sword in hand and freezing over the hole in my window. It is not a solution, but, since we are still in the middle of December, it should suffice for now. I dare not leave my room, however, terrified that, if I do, the worst will come. Unrealistic as it is, I feel safer here if a little (perhaps more) annoyed with Jacques for insisting I return to living at home after just a few (far more blissful) weeks of living at the academy.

I have yet to talk to my true father, but how can I when I cannot yet come to terms with it myself? Glancing back at the time again, I see an hour has passed since I was roused. I hate this feeling, this waiting game. I have heard nothing since the shattering of my window, and I have absolutely no idea if the rest of them are alright. It is unlikely that this is nothing. We have always been targeted by less than reputable groups (the White Fang being a "wonderful" example) but we have never had a security breach on the property, let alone in the mansion itself. I start to pace, my hand tightening around my sword while the seconds continue to tick by and the minutes bleed from them. My mind is spinning with all of the possibilities as to what could have happened and I have no clue what to do about them. If someone got into the house, then they would be hard pressed to find a way to escape. If they did escape, then they could be much more dangerous than the average burglar. Yet, I have not heard any noise and my room is close to both Weiss' and our parents' which suggests they are all still fine. Slowly, I sit down on the edge of my bed and keep my sword at the ready. I can handle an intruder if need be. I am training to join our kingdom's military, after all.

"Miss Schnee?"

Klein, suddenly in my doorway, interrupts my thoughts and startles me so badly that I nearly attack him. He merely laughs it off under his breath and motions for me to follow him. The halls of the mansion have never felt more foreboding. Time itself seems to have lost meaning and gone amok, lending to my anxiety. Eventually, we reach the drawing room. As I step in, I breathe a small sigh of relief. However disgruntled or upset they may look, they are all still alive. Father — Jacques, I remind myself again — is standing by the fire and carries a stately and imposing presence even in his night clothes. In the chair near him, mom looks almost ill in the fire light. Her hair and skin seem even paler, and her tailored red silk pyjamas only seem to worsen the effect by reflecting the fire light. Whitley is curled up in her lap, looking absolutely terrified and, shockingly, his age. Weiss is sitting on the chaise lounge beside Cate, and seems in little better a state than I am. In contrast to the rest of us, however, Cate looks especially annoyed. She's in only her newsprint leggings, a tight pink camisole and a loose kimono-style robe. To no surprise, she, unlike myself and our mother, foregoned her bra and is twitching with her glasses and messy pale hair. I suppose it is understandable that she is not as unnerved as the rest of us, but the reasons it she is this way are ugly at the very best.

"I assume you're all aware of what's transpired?" Jacques eventually says, gesturing to Klein. "Have you found anymore evidence?"

"Evidence of what?" Cate snorts. "It's pretty clear what happened," She says, then breaking into her beautiful, high voice only to sing the absolute worse words possible at the moment. "A is for arson, B is for burglary, C is for —"

"Enough!" He snaps. "You are completely missing the point, Cate Lynn, not to mention undermining the severity of the situation!"

She shrinks back but, unusually, does not immediately apologise. Instead, she scowls before staring at her hands.

"This is a highly volatile situation," Klein says, ending the uncomfortable silence. "It is unheard of for there to be a break-in here, and the intruder managed to disarm the security system and, by all accounts, escape completely undetected. So far as the staff can tell, nothing was stolen except for an old scroll of your father's."

Mom turns to him shakily. "They could access the entire company data base if they can restore it."

"Exactly," He says grimly. "By passing all updates to passwords or security, too. Our entire system is fixed around a few servers and, unless the police can prevent the thief from…"

I understand the gravity of what is happening but I cannot being myself to give a damn about what he is saying. More than ever, it is clear he is more concerned about the consequences for himself than he is for the well being of the rest of us.

"Momma?" Whitley whimpers. "Are we okay?"

She immediately hugs him and starts to rub his back. "We will be, sweetie," She murmurs. "Klein and the police will make sure of it."

Jacques says absolutely nothing. I feel an old resentment towards him bubbling up again. How can he be so damn silent when his own son — his favorite child — is so afraid? What kind of parent is like that? My fingers curl and I try to appear calm but it is of little use. My blood is boiling; how can he be so smug?

"Sir," Klein offers, sounding unsure. "There's more. None of the internal functions of the security system seem to be damage. Whomever it was that entered, they were able to do so by disarming the system remotely and without a digital fingerprint."

Weiss buries herself into Cate (who seems deeply unnerved herself), quivering, while Whitley begins to cry out of the areas of the situation. Mom still is the only one trying to comfort him. Shaking again, I sit down and, for just a moment, I catch a glimpse of genuine fear in Jacques' eyes. He knows more than we do, and I would hesitate to know what it is if I am not seeing what I want to out if sleep deprivation and sheet loathing.

Could he possibly know someone dangerous enough to break in and leave with a scroll and no viable traces?


	16. Chapter 15: Cate Lynn Schnee

I'm fucking terrified. Absolutely fucking terrified. I fell back asleep after break in (if it hadn't been Sunday, I would have been screwed) and now, four hours after we were all cruelly deprived of well deserved sleep, I'm sipping my sweet tea and trying not to look as annoyed as I feel. Weiss has been tailing Winter all day, Whitley has been all but attached to mommy, and daddy is so angry about what happened that he hasn't even yelled at me for still being in my leggings, cami, and silk robe, never mind the fact that I just don't feel motivated to put on a bra. I'm not leaving the grounds, and it's not as if anyone can see anything they shouldn't. I just don't give a damn right now.

Honestly, what I can't wrap my head around is how everything seems so normal despite what happened a few hours ago. The staff is moving about as usual, we've all separated ourselves from each other, and daddy has started doing work in his study. If there hadn't been a break in, this could probably be a normalish day. I'm not saying any day is ever really normal for us, but the closer it feels like it the better. Otherwise, there's too much pressure. Even my baby brother sees it; hell, he's so stiff most of the time that I worry he's more anxious than I am. If he is, well then he's shit out of luck.

Lightly tapping an Oreo into my sweet tea, I try to savor the flavors instead of dwelling on the actual bullshit my family always has to deal with. At least, after this week, we go on holiday break and classes won't resume until January. Plus, with the coming year being a Vytal Festival year, there'll more excitement in town than usual. Gotta love the capital in the summer when we're hosting the Festival. All things considered, it'll be much more entertainment than the charity balls, and white collar events, and even fundraisers (why the SDC needs those is beyond me, but I think Blake Adel just likes showing off weird things he collects). The last ball was...a bit awkward for me to say the least. Sorry, that's a lie. It was downright awful.

Introducing my boyfriend to my father was going to be bad enough, but it really didn't help when he almost threw up. Karissa Mar and Spencer Livingston — Luke's parents — apparently didn't realize what I meant when I had told them not to let him meet my father yet. I know Karissa is the head of the Department of Foreign Affairs and Military Action and that Spencer is a brilliant businessman himself, but they know my father is dead intimidating. I cannot begin to explain how awful I felt; of course I knew Luke was afraid of him but his parents talked me into it! I know it's my fault, but my mother didn't have to compound it by sauntering in with an alcoholic and a weirdo with blonde hair and too much gel! At least it all went better than the one before it, when daddy's COO spilled wine on my baby brother. I hate basically everyone daddy works with (excepting Blake Adel) but Rebecca is especially awful. She's a bitch, a slut, and psycho. If she weren't so shrewd, she'd be behind bars right now.

The reason I say excepting Blake Adel is because he's both my god-father and he's actually a nice human being once you get past his chorusing and bad jokes. My family and his are also in the top three percent of everyone in Atlas, which makes for a good time when we pool resources (for example, daddy's rivals, the Taggerts, have so much money they make us look poor; they have a yacht, three homes, etc while we only have the manor, nice things, and some sports cars). Also, Blake has always been nice to all of us, including me when I was a little queen of darkness several years back. He at least cares about human beings more than he cares about gossip. Plus, he's not a slutty bitch like Rebecca. I get why my dad works with her, I really do, I just can't wrap my head around how he doesn't hate her.

But, honestly, what I really would rather know right now is who would be stupid enough to break into the manor yet smart enough to escape undetected. Not to mention why it didn't seem like anything was stolen except an old scroll they probably will just wipe and sell as lightly used. Is it possible they bugged us?

"Cate?" Weiss pokes her head into the drawing room and I smile, waving her in before quickly adjusting my glasses. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to relax," I tell her. She climbs up into one of the chairs next to me. "Want an oreo?"

Weiss nods and happily bites down on the cookie. See? A single cookie can make you feel better. I never go for more than three, but that's mainly because I can't take too much sweet. Between the tea and cookies, I'm good.

"Win said the company could be in trouble because of what happened," Weiss eventually says, fidgeting with her hands. "Is that true?"

"Could be," I admit, taking a sip of tea. "But, to be honest, the theif probably chickened out and grabbed the first thing they could find. The scroll probably will just be wiped and resold. I really don't think anyone is going to access whatever company information could still be on it."

Weiss eyes me curiously. "Then why break in?"

"Because some people are stupid, desperate, or both," I shake my head. "Weiss, there are a lot of people in this world that don't know a damn thing about hard work and think that stealing from others is what will solve the problems. It's sad, but it isn't excusable either."

Weiss looks down, still fidgeting with her hands. I can't tell if she's upset or guilty or what. Is she afraid?

"I guess," She says quietly. "But we haven't had to work for what we have."

"You will eventually," I tell her. "Win and I haven't come as far as we have just to get this far, you know."

"But I don't even know what I want," Weiss weakly protests. "I don't know if I want to be a huntress or if I just want to prove I could be. Father's always been in control...I don't know what I'd do without his…"

Money. She doesn't say it, probably because she hates admitting it, but he has always controlled us, to different degrees, with the money he has.

"Listen to me," I say, turning to her and lightly patting her shoulder. "People are going to tell you what to do and what they think you're supposed to be your whole life. That never changes. Weiss, you don't have to listen. When you figure it out, you have to push right back and show them who you are and what you're capable of."

She manages a smile. "Thanks, Cate."

I loosely embrace her. "It'll be okay, kiddo," I tell her. "I promise."

For once, I don't feel like I'm lying.


	17. Chapter 16: Jacques Schnee

Without a doubt in my mind, the intruder was Arthur. To no end does it infuriate me. For him to break into the manor and take an old scroll for the sake of, I assume, gleaning out business contacts is absolutely despicable. I highly doubt anything of consequence will come of it, but the amount of drama it is causing irritates me to no end. Because of him, security will need to be updated, an investigation will have to occur, and the damn window he broke has to be replaced. Between his lack of discretion and the property damage caused, I could all but throttle him if I had the faintest clue where he was. Chances are that he will not return, let alone try something so foolish again, but the fact he managed what he did leaves me ill at ease, perhaps even more so than the rest of the family. Willow is the only one who knows what actually happened, and solely because she and I both recall the last situation regarding Arthur. Before any of our children were born, he was an up and coming scientist that most people in the kingdom hailed as a revolutionary. A few years later, James and a handful of others working for the Atlesian government came across a couple of discrepancies in his paperwork. The ensuing investigation revealed disgusting human rights violations, and the rather disconcerting fact that he was keeping a prostitute in an apartment downtown. Most distrutbingly, however, is the fact that he is my elder half brother, albeit long since estranged.

"Damn," Blake remarks, stepping into my office without warning, per usual. "You look like you need a drink."

I scowl at him. Of all the things I could possibly need right now, alcohol is the least of them.

"Lighten up," Blake goes on. "With all the shit that's happened for you all, I think you deserve a drink."

"My wife and eldest daughter drink enough for all of us," I irritably tell him. "I would rather not start acting like them. The situation is being dealt with. Why worry?"

Blake looks almost amused, although why he does is beyond me.

"I'd be all over the place if something like that happened to me and Allie," Blake says, grimacing at the thought. "I don't think I could hold any sense of composure."

"That would be because you never can."

As I often am, Rebecca's own intrusions spare me from having to respond to Blake when he starts talking mad.

"Ah, Rebecca, I didn't see you there!" Blake mockingly bows and ushers her in, much to her annoyance. "You look as put together as always!"

She rolls her eyes. "Whereas you look like a well groomed pet in a suit."

How the two of them have not tried to kill each other after all this time is something I will never quite understand.

"I have some bad news," Rebecca says, pulling up a set of files in her scroll. "The Department of Fiscal Affairs and Corporate Oversight has delayed approval of the merger with the soon to be liquidated Taggert Industries. Apparently there are concerns over market dominance."

"That's lovely," I say dryly. "I suppose they want to do a thorough investigation?"

"That is part of it," She says, looking particularly annoyed with her scroll. "But not just into the hypothetical effects of the merger. The DFACO received a request from the DPHHS to investigate the operations of the SDC from the mines all the way up to us."

Damn the Department of Public Health and Human Services. We have enough issues, from what I can tell based on how busy PR is, that do not need to become publicly discussed.

"I recommend we fire all of the faunus workers we think will talk," Rebecca says, her lips curving upward into an uncanny smile. "I don't imagine the others will want to take such a risk after they see what we can do to them."

"Hold on, hold on," Blake says, looking at her incredulously. "Do you know how racist that would make us look? We can't do that!"

"He's right," I agree, sending Rebecca a rather unsavory glare. "Doing something like that would cause delays, not to mention the nightmare it would be to address because of the unflattering media attention it would gather."

Rebecca sighs. "But if we don't, some things like...oh...I don't know, the accidents where people have been blown up by the dust they were mining or the deaths we've had at the refineries. The list goes on and on. Care for me to send you a list, Jacques?"

"Are you trying to implicate me in something that disgusting?" I can hardly believe her nerve, let alone with regard to matters this serious. "We are not going to take those actions just because the DPHHS wants to take a look into the company before a merger!"

"I say we buy silence," Blake proposes with a shrug. "Raise everyone's wages temporarily. We're making so much money right now that it doesn't even matter. We'll still end the fiscal year with massive profits. There's no reason to raise eyebrows."

"And how will we explain —" Rebecca angrily challenges.

"It's out of the goodness of our hearts," Blake says, pretending to swoon for the sole purpose of irritating her. To little surprise, she tries to slap him. "Hey, hey," He says, catching her hand. "We're just being nice because we're having a better than average year. I think that's perfectly explainable."

"You're an idiot," She snaps. "Nobody is going to fall for that and the fact that you would makes me think you're dumber than a bag of rocks."

"Your specialty is twisting people's heads around," Blake silkily replies. "Mine is all the things you can do when you have —"

This time, she does manage to slap him although I can't explain how this isn't a more common occurrence. With the amount of times they bicker every day, I wouldn't be surprised if she bruised him regularly.

"Just shut up!" Rebecca exclaims in abject annoyance. "We have actual work to do before they look too deep into us and, frankly, I —"

"There isn't going to be anything worth seeing," I calmly remind her. "The DPHHS and the DFACO won't see anything unusual. This is perfectly routine."

Rebecca storms out and the second she's gone Blake starts laughing.

"What a bitch!" He exclaims. "She's clever and all but sheesh!"

"I suppose there is some reason for concern," I say mildly. "But there isn't any cause for panic. They've looked at us before. I don't see what's changed."

Blake grins. "The only thing that's changed is the fact that we're not a smaller company any more. This time around, we are riiiich!"

Truth be told, however obnoxious his chorusing of that may be, he has a point albeit one I won't admit to. There's no reason to draw attention to ourselves, after all.


	18. Chapter 17: Weiss Schnee

I'm all alone. I think mom went out with Cate, Whitley has lessons, and Winter had to go back to Atlas Academy. Father's at work like he always is. I know the staff are around in the manor. I guess it's silly for me to feel alone, but I'm scared of it because of what happened. What if something bad were to happen again? What if someone got hurt? I shudder. I don't know why, but everything has made me feel cold since the break-in. I'm sitting on the edge of my bed. My feet bounce back and forth against the lower frame. I'm still a bit too small to sit on the edge of my bed with my feet touching the ground. I guess that's because I'm short. Win's the tallest of all of us except father. I'm a little jealous of her. Win's pretty, smart, and (usually) nice. I start trying to think back to the last few times we talked, just the two of us. It takes me a minute (everything seems to be blurring together... I think it's just because I'm a kid) but I finally get it. It isn't happy, though. Even when I've gotten to talk with just Win, she hasn't been very happy lately. I wonder if it's because of what father said to mom. I try not to think too much about it. He has to love her. People only say things like that when they're angry, right? Mom loves him. Win might be the General's daughter, but mom stlll loves father.

She has to, right? Whitley and I...wouldn't mom have left if she weren't happy?

I bite my lip, thinking back. It really is all blurry to me. I don't like that. It feels wrong. I should remember. They're my memories.

_"Do you even hear yourself?" She whispers, and Winter pulls me back a little. "Jacques, please do this for me."_

It's been so long, I guess, since my birthday but thinking about this makes it feel new. Like it just happened. I pull my legs into my chest without even thinking about it and bury my face in them. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut too. Focus. Focus. Focus.

_He scoffs. "That isn't working, Willow_."

_Mom seems to brush her hand against her cheek; is she crying?_

I'm almost certain mom was crying. She said bad things. She was angry. She was...she was very upset. I hate that it was because of me. If I hadn't told her I wanted father to come join us, they wouldn't have fought. Is it like what Cate said? I think it could be. I think I've figured out what she meant when she said we tell "big little lies." But...could it be like what Win said? She said it was...I think she said "some deep shit." She said mom and father fight about money and about all of us. Me. Win. Cate. Whitley. But home is safe, right?

Win told me too that she doesn't think we can be a family. A few days ago she told me a secret about how she ran away once. I don't know why. She said she ran from the noise and mom and father's fights. But Win has always come home. How is that running away? I thought running away was the end, when people never speak to their family again. I hate how that sounds. It sounds lonely. I hate being lonely. I hate not having a lot of friends. I hate seeing my parents fight. I hate seeing my big sisters hide and just leave all the time. I hate seeing Whitley get everything but still get yelled at. Whitley is still little, right? He's too little. I glance up and briefly open my eyes. The doors to my room have been open the whole time and across the hall I can see our family portrait. Mom looks sad. Cate seems angry. Winter looks like she doesn't feel anything. I don't even think I'm smiling. Whitley looks confused. Father seems...happy? Was he glad about the money and the company or was it because he was happy to have us? I chew on my lip. If I weren't paying much attention, maybe I'd think we look pretty happy. At least normal. Why can't we be happy? I don't want us to be like this. Why aren't we closer like we used to be? Why has everything had to change?

I shut my eyes again. My head is starting to hurt. My head hurts a lot. I don't really know why. It just does.

_"Please?" She murmurs. "She's our little girl. At least show her you love both of us."_

I know everyone tells me it isn't true but he does love her. No matter what he says, it's true. I know that he hurts her sometimes but he knows we love him too. Mom and father have to stay together. They will. They say mean things but they always have. Isn't that just what people do? They say mean things but don't mean them. It isn't real when she swears and drinks or breaks things by mistake. It isn't real when he says he doesn't love her. None of this is real. It can't be. People tell me I worry a lot. Maybe this is just my imagination. We'll get...happy again. We won't...we'll...I'll be their little girl forever. They won't have to worry. No one will scream. Mom and father will love each other. They have to. They do. I can't...it wouldn't be like this if they didn't love each other. Win said parents who don't love each other don't stay together. Mom and father are still together. So they love each other. I trust my big sisters but I really really believe Win. She never lies. Win knows everything. She always has. She's...she can't be wrong about this, can she?

_"Willow," He replies calmly. "I've never loved you. Have I grown to care for you and our children? Of course. I quite enjoy your company and sleeping with you, but I married you for the SDC and Schnee name. It was never about love."_

It hurt a lot when I heard what he said. Then I cried. Now... I can't believe it. I won't. He didn't mean it. When father says mean things, it's just to make a point. I've heard him do it. He does it to Blake a lot when he comes over. Blake says he doesn't care what father says because he's always joking. I can't tell if he just says that or really means it. I don't like the people father works with. They all seem really mean. I fall back into my bed now and stare at the ceiling. I keep telling myself my parents love each other. We're a family. That's how it works. We love each other. Still...I feel cold again when I think about something Win said when I talked to her last night.

_You tell yourself a lie long enough, you'll believe it. No matter how ridiculous it is. Don't put yourself in cold water, so to speak. If you're already there...then just breathe and get it off your chest. Lying...believe me, I've told myself one too many lies and it's awful. It's no way to live._

I shudder again. Could she be right, now?


	19. Chapter 18: Willow Schnee

Truth be told, I've lost track of how long I've been here, listening to the company talks with the Department of Public Health and Human Resources. It's incredibly boring, listening to all of the lies they've been repeating since my father ran the company. Just as boring is the fact I can't drink right now, given that it would be "wildly improper and reflect poorly on all of us." I sigh and sit down. Soon, they're all trailing out of the board room to give DPHHS the chance to tour the company headquarters before they visit a refinery and a mine. I'm sure their investigation will be more thorough than this but I honestly could not be compelled to give a damn right now. Jacques and Rebecca will handle this like they always do, the company will get approval for the merger with minimal restrictions, and things will go back to the usual artifice and shoulder-rubbing. That's how it's been for years. I don't see any reason why things would change now, even a little. It's not as if things haven't worked out well for us — extremely well, even. Jacques has never worked a hard day in his life and his primary job is to move money around and shout at people for fucking up the company image. As for myself...well, I've never worked a day in my life. Even when I was younger that was more than true.

"Ah! There's the careless man's careful daughter!"

I look up, briefly startled and then manage to scowl at Blake, who is standing nonchalantly in the doorway. I'm a bit surprised that he isn't with Jacques and Rebecca but, I suppose, he does have a bad habit of picking fights with her. DPHHS doesn't need to see the worst of us. Per usual, they and the world will get our public faces and nothing more. I frown, recalling something my father used to say about business. _It doesn't matter what the truth is, so long as the best of us is what they all believe to be true. People are gullible by nature, no matter how smart we all fancy ourselves over time._ My father was nothing if not a cynic but, at the moment, I vaguely resent him for it. Part of me feels suddenly guilty for that, of course, given that, at the end of the day, my father was no worse than most people and fell victim to ambition and, as a partial result of that, severe lung failure. Nevertheless, whenever I recall his ruthless moments, I see my husband's in starker clarity. Words cannot come even close to describing how taxing those moments are on me. Selfish as that paradigm may, be, it is true. When Jacques falls into his (occasionally) dark ambition, I find it more and more difficult to accept it.

"Careless man's careful daughter?" I finally repeat, in part to be polite but more so because I do genuinely like Blake as a human being. If I didn't, he wouldn't be the godfather to my eldest. "Really?" I go on with a teasing smirk. "Shouldn't you tread lightly with someone like me?"

Blake chuckles. "Willow, I think we both can agree that I'm long past treading lightly with anyone. Allie could tell you."

"Speaking of Allie, how is she doing?"

"She's pregnant and a nervous wreck. Not great. I'm only here because she insisted I have to do things other than smother her."

"Sounds about right," I agree, the teasing edge still in my voice. "But , if I were you, I would be afraid of Rebecca skewering you."

"Trust me," Blake says, putting his hands up and miming waving a white flag. "I don't want to be left to her mercy. Rebecca is a crazy bitch. We love her, but she's crazy. I mean that, too. She's absolutely fucking _insane_. I bet she'll comission a coat made of the neighbors dogs by the end of the year."

I shrug. "Haven't we seen that plenty over the years? I would expect you to have gotten used to it by now."

Blake winks. "See, I knew I liked you, Willow. You have the right kind of sass. Glad you know how to use it."

"You should be," I reply with a smirk. "I use it on you more than anyone else."

"And I'm sure I deserve it," Blake jokingly says, sliding onto the top of the table. "Okay, but, seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you only hung around when Jacques needed you for publicity reasons."

"Don't make it sound like I'm an escort, or a prostitute, or anything less than an equal in my own marriage," I snap, temporarily surprised by my own vitriol. "I could spend more time around here and have far more involvement in the company and its policy but, frankly, I have zero interest in business. If I didn't, my father would have given me the company when he died, not my husband."

Blake raises both his eyebrows, looking a bit like a surprised child. His eyes widen, probably because he's as startled as I feel, and he glances around uncomfortably. I get the feeling I've struck a nerve, but, at the same time, I'm hard pressed to care. Part of me is yelling in my mind, telling me I've gone too far and that I should walk it back. Another part of me, though, wants a fight. I haven't felt that way in years. Truthfully, the thought of it scares me.

"Damn…" Blake softly whistles, the surprise still etched into his face. "I clearly don't give you enough credit. That's a sharp tongue."

"Don't try to flatter me," I warn him. "I'm far less oblivious than I let people believe."

"That, Willow," He says slowly, lowering his voice with each word. "Is most certainly _not_ a fact I have ever doubted."

I'm stunned that I believe him. Blake is a lot of things and we have our clashes, but I've known him for over twenty years and he has never lied to me. To other people, sure, but he's always been straight laced with me. I have no idea why. He doesn't owe me anything and never has. Maybe he just thinks it's right but, my whole life, I've never seen people do or say things that will hinder them in any way, even if what they're setting aside is supposed to be morally right.

"You're an odd person, Blake," I eye him for a few seconds and then shake my head. "How did you get involved in underhanded business when you're as kind as you are? I heard raising base wages was your idea. I'm sure it helps the appearance of the company, but I doubt that was your only reason."

"It wasn't," He agrees. "We've done enough fucked up shit this year. I'd rather not compound that."

I sigh, twisting my hair in my hands. "You're too nice for this work."

"And you're too sweet for Jacques," Blake says. I briefly startle but he gently pats my shoulder. "You can always leave if it's too much. You are not helpless, Willow. Do yourself a favor and don't forget that."

He leaves, humming to himself under his breath. _He knows_. I wonder, quivering at the thought, how many other people, if any, realise the truth too. If they do...then I have no idea if I can continue to keep this together.


	20. Chapter 19: Whitley Schnee

I wait. It's really quiet here. I like the quiet. No one can hurt you. Quiet is safe. Noise isn't. Noise is like the balls when people are just mean and drink. Quiet is like nap time. I don't nap much anymore. I'm not allowed to. I sit down on the floor. Mommy's in dad's study. I wonder what they're talking about. Maybe Cate or Win? I don't know. It's confusing. I guess that's what it means to be little. I think most things are still new to me. It's weird. I sigh. I'm tired. What time is it? Is it almost time for supper? I hope Cate and Win will come home. They're gone a lot and Weiss doesn't like to play. I'm lonely. I did pretty good during my extra lessons today. My piano playing has gotten better. I think it's because my fingers are getting longer. I miss less keys. The notes are prettier. Last night, mommy really liked the song I played. I wish my sisters had heard. Cate loves music. Win knows detail. Weiss can play too. I don't like this. No one is ever around.

"Jacques! Drop it already!"

Mommy sounds angry. Her voice is really loud through the door. She and dad fight a lot now. Win says they're going to get divorced. I don't want that. I need mommy. I want to be like dad.

"Get a grip, Willow. I hardly think this will amount to anything."

I'm confused. What could dad be thinking about? Is the company not making money? Are we going to be poor? That sounds scary.

"Are you even listening to me? You're always such a damn —"

I hear something crash. I cover my ears. I don't like the noise. Is mommy okay? I hear more footsteps. Is dad okay? Am I —

"You're a fucking asshole!" Mommy yells. It's been awhile. There was a lot of quiet. Quiet is good. This is bad. "And you're downright sick sometimes, Jacques! Like it's my fault that —"

"Lower your voice!" Dad snaps. "I'd rather not attract any attention, no matter what you may still be seeking."

"Attention? You think this is about attention? Where the hell did that come from in your sick head?"

I pull my legs into me. I don't like this. It's scary. I want mommy. I want to cry.

"If you set down a bottle of wine for two seconds, perhaps you would understand me."

"If you spent any real time as a parent, then maybe you would understand why I think you're sick. Cutting off Winter, giving Cate, Weiss, and Whitley the remains of her trust fund. I've never heard anything else so damn cruel from you."

I feel tears. I think I'm starting to cry. I swallow. I can't cry. Dad said boys shouldn't cry. Win and Weiss don't cry. I can't either. I don't want them to find me. Mommy would be upset. Dad would be angry. I think they're both angry now. I'm scared.

"It is not cruel," Dad says. He sounds calm. I need calm. "It's a simple business manoeuver and one we have been waiting on for awhile."

Mommy snorts. "One you've been waiting on, that is."

I hear a snap. It's loud. Did something fall again? Did something break?

"I'm not arguing this point with you, Willow. My decision is final. You are, as always, taking it the wrong way."

It's quiet again. Are mommy and dad all better? They're okay, right? They have to be okay. Weiss says dad doesn't love mommy but I think she's wrong. Win and Cate day it too but they're still wrong. Mommy and dad have to love each other. They're mommy and dad.

"I'm looking out for our daughter," Mommy says. "You just don't give a damn because she doesn't want to accept the future you've laid out for her."

"Oh, Willow…"

Dad laughs. That must be good. Happy people laugh.

"And here I was, the family butler, thinking you were the good child. Never did I expect to catch you eavesdropping."

I almost scream when I hear Klein. I don't scream though. I can't. Dad told me showing emotion isn't good. He said it's bad. He thinks it'll make me weak. I don't want to be weak. I want to be like him.

"I understand your curiosity, of course," Klein pulls me up off the ground. He's whispering. Does that mean we're playing a game now? "I hope it doesn't cause you any undue distress, however. Your parents have quite explosive tempers."

Cate too. She's yelled at people before. They deserved it. She's protected me and Weiss that way. Win thinks she's too mean sometimes. I don't think so. She's nice.

"Why do they fight so much?" I ask, rubbing my eyes. I'm feeling a little sleepy. It was hard to sleep last night.

"Because all married couples do," Klein sort of laughs. I don't know why. Is it funny? "In all seriousness, though, I suspect it has to do with the stress of the break in and your sisters. Not to point fingers, of course

I shudder. The break in. That was scary.

"I don't like it," I feel sad. Mommy's sad a lot too. "They have to love each other! They're mom and dad!"

Klein stares at me. I squirm. I don't like staring. It scares me. Win says staring is like hunting. She says people do it to know things. I'm not sure what that means. I don't get anything from staring except laughed at or pushed.

"Ah! There's my son!"

Mommy suddenly hugs and tickles me. I missed her. Where's dad? Is he working now she's not with him? Mommy has a bruised eye. I wonder what happened. Did she fall and hit her head?

"Madame Schnee," Klein bows. "I shall take my leave. I was merely accompanying young Whitley to the pantry for a small snack but I imagine you, per usual, would prefer to accompany him yourself."

Mommy nods. She's still hugging me. I like that she smells pretty.

"As always," Mommy laughs and picks me up. "Come now, Whitley, let's make sure you get a snack that won't spoil your dinner."

Mommy's the best. I want things to stay like this forever. When she's happy. When dad doesn't yell with her. When my sisters are home and want to play. I like that. Why don't we do that stuff anymore? And why does mommy have boo-boos so much? Is she okay? Dad says she is. She says she is.

I really hope they aren't lying like all of the mean people at the balls.


	21. Chapter 20: Winter Schnee

Normal is not a word I am particularly fond of, especially when it comes to my family. Normal describes how my elder sister failed yet again at her most recent relationship and took her anger out on us at supper when she and father inevitably got into an argument over money. Normal describes how my younger sister acts as if she's a perfect doll that our parents can mold into whatever they think she should be. Normal also describes how my little brother has no friends except the butler and, thus, no social skills. Then, of course, normal also describes my mother's drinking habits, and my father's short temper. To be frank, I would take anything but the ordinary when it comes to my family these days. So many people would do anything — even kill — to become one of the Schnee family. I can only wonder why they fall for my father's illusion. It is a charming one, that I will not deny, but between what happens between him and mother — as well as the toll it has taken on all of us — I simply cannot fathom why people believe we are as good as gold. After all, everything that glitters is not always gold. When it comes to us, that is perhaps even more true. Family problems aside, the SDC has always engaged in underhanded business practices to squash the competition.

Even my revered grandfather did that; in fact, so far as I can tell, he was at them helm of it.

"Winter?" Two raps at my door and the unusual voice of my baby brother. I suppose it is becoming stranger and stranger for me to be home. "I scared…"

I wave Whitley in, a bit surprised to see him trembling. I do not usually associate my brother with being emotional, but even I know that is not rational. He is only a child, no matter what he may act to gain our father's praise.

"Cry it out," I tell him. That is what mother always told me as a child. "Come here, Whit."

I have not called him by his nickname in a long time; the closest I have come recently was calling him a twit to my teammates. In some ways, though I do not blame him for what we have all had to deal with, that may very well be true. I can only hope he will not turn out like our father. If anyone in my family is a twit, it would be him. He did marry his way into the family.

"Momma's in hospital…" Whitley whimpers out, sobbing into my lap.

I freeze, taking in a sharp breath that he does not notice. Mother has near perfect health; she even managed delivering all four of us within only a few hours and completely naturally. This is bad.

"What happened?" I ask, rubbing his back. "Did you hear something from father? Or has he gone with her?"

He sniffles and, for only a few horrifying seconds, I realise that my elder sister and I have always had a motherly role in the lives of both Weiss and Whitley. Not only that, but he's never seen anything that could break conceivably called scary. This is nothing short of terrifying. It has been ages since mother has even needed blood work. For mother to be admitted to the hospital, she must be in a —

"Klein says she drank too much," Whitley chokes out through sobs. "I don't get it, Win. Is momma sick?"

_I can never tell him the truth_, the faint voice in my head whispers. _Not about myself being the child of an affair, and not about mother's alcoholism or father's abuse of her._

"Yes," I lie, waiting long enough for it seem plausible. The most overt lies always fly off the tongue, almost as if they are trying to protest their own use. "Mother has been a little sick these last few days and a drink probably turned hier improving condition back without warning. She will be okay, though, I promise."

Whitley swallows hard, his eyes puffy. "Thanks, Win…" He sniffs.

_I cannot tell him what probably caused this. Last night, shortly after I arrived home, my elder sister left because she said she could not stay at home any longer. She will probably be back when father demands her to, but she left for New Yorkshire because of what happened. Father and mother had an explosive argument, Weiss was slapped several times in a day. Then, mother was punished in the worst way by her own husband after supper. I know he is not my father now, but knowing what he does to my mother haunts me. I wonder if, by chance, he too has figured out the truth about me._

"We will go visit her tomorrow," I tell him. I let out a small sigh of relief when Whitley perks up a tinge. "I am sure she wants to see us," I add. "I bet she misses you."

Though there is no doubt in my mind that mother misses us, saying it feels wrong with what I know. I hope I never have to tell my brother the truth. He already lives in such a fragile lie anyways.

"Ah. Your butler said he sent the kid to you."

I watch Blake Adel enter my room. I do not object, if only because I am sure he means well. Why else would he rush here after a tragedy like this?

"Is mother alright?" I ask him, if only for the sake of my brother.

Blake nods. "She just needs her blood flushed, that's all. At least, that's what it sounded like from what Jacques told me."

Whitley looks to him, still bleary eyed. The truth be told, I am just glad he does not understand most of what Blake is saying. He is still a kid. No kid should know what my mother is really going through. I wonder some days if I should, and I am an adult and a military recruit.

"Momma okay?" Whitley weakly rubs his eyes. "Okay okay?"

Blake nods. I know he is lying or at the very least seriously stretching the truth but I am glad for it. I do not want to be the only adult lying about things to this caliber of dire.

"Where's Weiss?" Blake goes on. He has never seemed more brisk, but I notice the exhaustion etched under his eyes and in his five o' clock shadow. He is drained at the very best. Seeing his humanity so clearly makes me question, yet again, how he is involved in the business he is. He is too nice for this. There is nothing else to it.

"She probably is in her room," I sigh, patting my brother's back. Blake nods shortly in understanding. "She may or may not know something has happened," I warn him.

Blake shakes his head. "So it goes," He says. I barely see it, but there is awful pain in his eyes.

How the hell did he get caught up in this when the rest of us never chose it and are dying from its consequences?


	22. Chapter 21: Cate Lynn Schnee

_Where are you?_

Weiss. I don't even know what to say. I mean, what the hell can I even say to her? She's only ten.

_Mother is in the hospital. Please come home._

Winter. I already texted her back, and I'm in the airport lounge. I'm waiting for my flight, which will take off in an hour. The best thing about being a rich girl is that you can be as big of a flight risk as me and still be horribly indecisive. Still...mommy being in the hospital. That's almost too scary to believe.

_Cate Lynn, if you do not come home within twenty four hours, I will cut off your credit cards. Your mother is unwell and has been hospitalised for her issues and will, regrettably, need support. Get home now._

That one was definitely from daddy, not that he would ever play at subterfuge with us. He's probably angry that I left in the first place. You would think he wouldn't give a shit, but the truth is he probably wants to have me at home so we be the perfect family. Yeah, perfect. He probably wants to make sure that the family will be viewed perfectly by the press. I guess mommy being on the hospital will definitely attract the media even if I'm pretty sure what he did to her is what caused her to do whatever it was that landed her in the hospital.

"First class boarding call for flight number three-six-one-five express to the capital. To repeat: this is the first class boarding call for flight number three-six-one-five express to the capital."

My flight. That took long enough. The sooner I'm home, the sooner I can get my dad off my back and the sooner I can make sure my mom is okay. Irritably, I pull my computer bag over my shoulder and grab my rollerboard, well aware that I probably look pretentious as fuck. That probably has something to do with the bejewelled, dark swan feather pin sweeping my now-nearly white hair over my left shoulder but I don't care. I also don't care that my fur coat probably costs more than someone's shitty apartment. To be honest, they — and this whole fucking trip, short lived as it may be — are just to keep me distracted. If something worse happens to my mother before I get home, I'm going to have a fit. Even if I misunderstood what daddy did to her (although I think it was pretty obvious based on how broken she looked), mommy's the one whose been there for us the most, not him. All he ever really does is focus on the SDC and, sure, I like to think I'm pretty close with both my parents but I think my dad is slowly getting worse.

He _did_ make that pretty clear to me a few months ago, you know. All the lectures he's ever given me about things I've done, he already knew the gory details. Hell, he probably already knew about this before my flight took off. All things considered, he has to. It's just another example of the kinds of mind games he and I have always played inconclusively. I guess it's no wonder everyone in my family is cunning. I bet we're all just too ambitious not to be.

_"Hmmph," He mused with a frown. "Did it not occur to you to mention that before the bill came in?"_

_"You pay them anyways," I bit off, just before realizing it was a mistake._

I shudder a little at the memory. That was only a few months ago, too, now that I think about it. Shaking that uncomfortable reality aside, I rustle in my computer bag for a second to pull out my scroll, which contains my travel permit and ticket. I barely feel anything going through these boarding lines anymore. I guess that probably goes to show just how used I am to this (albeit ridiculous) lifestyle.

Rich parents? Check.

Rich girl gone too far syndrome? Check.

Rely on the old man's money even if it's a bitch sometimes? Probably a double check.

"Schnee? You're a Schnee?"

The gate attendant raises both her eyebrows, staring at my travel permit like my cat stares at birds, but then she waves me through. The only bothersome thing about her surprise is the fact everyone else waiting to board immediately starts muttering. I don't really give much of a damn if people are surprised to see a Schnee just wandering around but I hate it when people start their damn mutterings. Chances are it isn't flattering. I'm not saying we deserve to have a flattering media image because, given the majority of the shit the SDC has done since my grandfather's time, we really do deserve the dumb title "the new Rockefellers." I am saying, though, that I'd rather people just say it to me rather than pretend not to give a damn when we all know my grandfather or my father probably ran them or someone they know out of business because "small time" dust simply isn't a thing anymore. I know it had been decreasing long before even my grandfather struck rich but I also know (read: because of secondary school and some less-than-tasteful conversations with people at university with me) most people blame the SDC for the destruction of small businesses in what had once been Atlas' biggest small business market.

"Damn it…" I mutter to myself, shoving my rollerboard into the overhead compartment and dropping my computer bag in my lap. If ever there were a time for me to not be in the mood for bullshit involving my family in any way, it would be now.

"Miss?"

I glance up upon hearing the first class attendant approach me. I feign a smile, albeit not very well (per usual it seems) and wait impatiently. I hate having to talk when I'm in these moods. It might as well be torture.

"Yes?" I say softly, trying to mask my annoyance with my family.

"We give two glasses of wine to all first class passengers. What kind do you want?"

"Cabernet Sauvignon."

I don't really have to fake a smile when those words leave my lips. I love Cabernet. I sigh and lean back as she goes to get my first glass. If I had to take a tentative guess, this is probably going to be the high point of my week. Between my father getting worse and my mother being hospitalised, I'm pretty sure we're all going to hell. Oh! And we still don't know who broke into the manor, let alone how. I finally get the glass in my hands and, after just a few sips, I feel a little warmer.

God knows I'm going to need this and much more than strength when I land back home.


	23. Chapter 22: Jacques Schnee

"It's a good thing you were there," James says, sighing ruefully. "Sounds like Willow could have died if it weren't for you."

Blake replies in agreement, but I don't particularly care what he's saying. My two eldest daughters are also present, though neither of them have said much of anything. Apparently, they both relaxed a little after speaking alone with their mother in the hospital, but they both seem to blame me for what happened. Winter and Cate Lynn are both perfectly intelligent; they ought to understand that is not the case. In the case of my eldest, she is probably looking for anyone to blame but Willow. As for Winter, she probably assumes Willow and I had an explosive argument or whatever cock and bull her teammates claim to have taught her about her own family.

"Willow should be fine in a few days," I mildly inform them. "All things considered, she should be alright."

"I can't believe she suffered an OD," Blake holds his head, seeming almost as distressed as my children were. "Willow has never had much of a history of substance abuse but the wine and painkillers...no. It's too awful."

"She's fine, now," James says shortly. "That is what matters."

Cate snorts. "Maybe if daddy weren't such a workaholic with latent rage issues sometimes, we wouldn't have to worry so much about her."

Blake gasps. "Cate!" He exclaims, absolutely scandalised. "That's an awful accusation to make! I know Willow and Jacques have their issues, but he would never drive her to that!"

I say absolutely nothing. Over the years, I've lost track of all the things she said without truly meaning them.

"I agree," James shortly interjects. "That seems to be much too far."

"Cate," Winter pats her hands reassuringly. "I told you things would be okay after we talked to mother. She said as much herself. Please do not make this worse for yourself or the rest of us."

She doesn't reply but numbly stares at her hands. I often wonder what goes through her head. How can she go from fervent emotions one moment to having no emotions the next? If anything, I imagine it contributes to some of her issues. Her temper infuriates me more often than not, I'm afraid.

"I hope your family will recover soon," James offers, though, I imagine, for the sole purpose of attempting to diffuse the tension. "What happened was awful, it really was."

"Yes, I agree," I eye my daughters critically for a moment and then turn to Blake. "On a lighter note, are the profit margins still rising."

He grins rather childishly. "Like no other," He chuckles. "We've run plenty of competitors out of business."

James raises an eyebrow. "I'm shocked the Council is still approving your acquisitions."

"Put your hands in the right places," Blake shrugs and then winks. "My wife is especially good at that."

"I cannot believe you talk about the mother of your children that way!" Winter attempts not to laugh but, I suppose, that is better than Cate Lynn giggling almost uncontrollably.

"You have a problem," James remarks. "Why would you mention that to anyone, Blake? That's just horrifying."

"Agreed," I put in, a tad disgusted. "Rebecca tends to tell us more than enough without you adding on."

"She needs to be stopped," Blake feigns being shot and then laughs. "I mean that. She is nothing short of crazy and needs to go down."

"She's brilliant," I remind him.

"Yeah, yeah," Blake waves his hand dismissively. "What else is new?"

"Nothing," I glance to my scroll, ignoring the messages from Weiss asking about her mother. I am not in the mood to have a talk of that nature with a child. "Hmmph. Entertaining them is what the help is for."

I catch Cate and Winter exchanging decidedly awkward looks out of the corner of my eye; an unwelcome reminder of what life was like before Willow and I received Nicholas' company and fortune. Blake, however, seems somewhat amused. Cate thoroughly scowls at me and rolls her eyes when I irritably throw a dirtied glass into the fireplace near her. Every so often, my temper snaps much like hers. At the moment, I am sick of her bullshit. She jumps, being so easily startled as she is, but she doesn't seem particularly scared. After all of the things she's done that were utterly stupid and endangered her, I suppose it must have been invevitable for her to come to lack a sense of fear. Glancing between them all, Blake shakes his head, gesturing to James in a way that suggests he's exasperated by quite a bit these days, as we all are. Oddly, James seems utterly unperturbed and makes no move nor comment.

"Oh, sorry, daddy, you missed," Cate says dryly. "I throw darts much more accurately than that, even when I'm not trying."

Winter pushes her heel down on her sister's foot, eliciting an irritated screech and a slew of swears from Cate. Blake, per usual, seems unreasonably amused by her complete lack of filter. James, much like myself, appears to be ignoring her. My eldest has never had much of what most would agree to be a reasonable degree of tact, a quality she seems to share with Blake. Regrettably, he has always seemed to encourage her.

"Hush you," Winter hisses.

Cate raises both her eyebrows, then defiantly crossing her arms. "I can't even joke anymore?" She mutters. "Sheesh, yall are making me miss New Yorkshire."

Blake laughs. "Little Miss Rich Girl, I think you need a reminder that you were only there for a few days!"

"Not even,' James cuts in. "She came home the second she heard about -"

"My mother," Cate says bitterly, sending me a dark look. "Ask him about it."

I frown, sensing her challenge. "I understand your anger, but I had nothing to do with what happened, Cate Lynn."

James nods shortly. "He's right. It was a terrible accident, nothing more."

I say nothing more, but I am well aware of Winter watching me closely. Blake is doing the same. I can only wonder why.


End file.
